


In Confidence Alone

by TheRedWulf



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragonstone, F/M, Fluff, King!Stannis, Loss of Virginity, Pregnancy, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Sound of Music, War of the Five Kings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 40,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - Regency - In which the 'heartless' Duke of Dragonstone becomes the guardian of 7 Seaworth children and 1 infuriating governess...





	1. Part 1 - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, here we go again! Stansa Regency, who DOESN'T love it!? I don't know where I am going, but we're going. Forward, only forward!  
> This is unbeta'd so I apologize for any errors.  
> I have maxed out the rating, it will be a slow burn to get there, but I am playing it safe. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Dragonstone Island  
Post Robert’s Successful Rebellion - c 1811

“An urgent message came for you, m’lord” Cressen announced as he burst into the study, out of breath and soaked from the rain. 

Stannis looked up to stare at the large folded letter the valet thrust at him, taking it slowly, “Thank you, Cressen” he gave a curt nod and the man scurried away, afraid invoking the wrath of the Duke should the letter contain bad news. 

Breaking the seal he opened it to find another letter inside. Curious, he noted, reading the first letter; 

_To Stannis Baratheon, His Grace the Duke of Dragonstone;_

_Your Grace,_

_Please find in this letter a sealed missive from Lord Davos Seaworth, Viscount of Rainwood, verified by myself upon the finalization of his last will and testament._

_Per my instruction I forward both the letter and these comments to you. On this occasion I am sorry to inform you that both Lord Rainwood and his lady wife have lost their lives to the sea. As you read this, Ser Davos’ seven sons are currently underway to your estate in Dragonstone. Dale (age 10), Allard (9), Matthos (8), Maric (7), Devon (5), Stannis (3) and Steffon (18 months), shall all be accompanied by their long standing governess and tutor, one Miss Alayne Stone._

_They should arrive within the sennight and shall be entrusted into your custody until they reach their majority and come into their inheritances separately._

_Please do not hesitate to ask any questions, but I should tell you now, this is quite binding._

_Ser Jonas Wallingford. Attorney._

At some point during reading this Stannis had stood, glaring down at the offending paper as if it could grow teeth and bite him. 

“The Devil…” he turned to the second letter, frowning deeply as he stared at the blood real wax seal with an onion in the middle. “No…”

Breaking the onion seal he opened it to find Davos’ familiar jerky handwriting.

_Stannis,_

_Unfortunately if you are reading this then the worst has happened and Marya and I are no longer able to care for the boys. I never wanted this for them, to be alone in the world without us, but I know that I can entrust them to your care._

_I have loved you as a brother, fought beside you, usurped kings beside you and nearly died beside you. And I ask you now brother, please protect my sons._

_I send with them Miss. Alayne Stone, quite a find. The children love her, and Marya adores her as a daughter. She came originally from Miss. Mordane’s School of Governesses, highly educated and pure of heart. She is a good woman, Stannis, should you choose to see it._

_I now thank you for standing by my side, saving me and elevating me far beyond what I deserve or was born to. Without you I would not have had the life I did._

_Forever your brother,_

_Davos_

Stannis tossed the letter to his desk, pacing to the fireplace as he felt the loss of Davos like a hot barb to his chest. He had known Davos since they were boys of 15, nearly 30 years, a man more brother to him than any born of his blood. Now his brother had been taken by the sea they fought so hard to elude. 

He sighed, looking to the shelf where his bicorn now lay, a long forgotten icon of the horrors of first Targaryen Wars, then Robert’s. A life that haunted him to this day. He had joined the Navy a green boy and left decades later a salty man who wished nothing more than to be left alone. And he succeeded in that. Thanks to the volcanic, black Island that Robert had ‘rewarded’ him with. Except now…

Now a woman and seven children were on course to his secluded home. Seven bloody boys, running about….

“Cressen” he called and the valet appeared shortly after.

“Y-yes sir?”

“We shall need to prepare a room for seven young boys” Stannis sighed. “And their govereness.”

“Seven?” Cressen’s eyes widened. 

“Under the age of 10” Stannis continued. “Perhaps it is best we clean the nursery…”

“N-Nursery….” Cressen swallowed. 

“We are not going to get anything sorted if you continue to repeat everything I say” Stannis snapped. “Have the nursery sorted, I have reason to believe they are already on their way. I want the rooms prepared when they arrive, is that clear?”

“Y-yes sir” Cressen nodded and bolted away, leaving Stannis alone once more. 

He paced to the desk then back to the fireplace, feeling the heat of it sooth his weary body. As he watched the flames, he could hardly determine which was worse, the death of his oldest friend, seven children or one, simpering governess. 

Somewhere Between King’s Landing and Dragonstone Island -

Alayne held the boys as close as she could in the cramped carriage, all of them bundled against the cold as they and their belongings made their way to Dragonstone. She watched out the window as they rode across what she would guess were the Eastern Crown Lands, her heart aching for the seven boys who now found themselves at the mercy of Lord Stannis Baratheon. 

In a past life, she had heard much about the Lord of Dragonstone, a man cold and calculating, more terrifying than any other at the helm of a ship. A man who had no heart to speak of, she’d once heard it said, stoic and unseducable. She had read articles on his victories, on his key siege of Storm’s End and him being instrumental in winning the war. In her experience, men so keen on waging war were hardly paternal.

She only hoped that whatever Davos’ last will and testament said, that it was ironclad and Stannis would be unable to push them into the cold. That would be unbearable, she knew. Young Stannis and Steffon were too young to survive in the cold, as they were they were bundled in her cloak to stay warm. She had been there to watch both of them come into this world, she would not watch them leave it. She would die if she had to, but the Seaworth boys would survive. 

Steeling her spine, she could only wait and pray that whatever future waited for them at these boys would be safe. She had failed one family already and it had cost her dearly. Now, now she would fight. If the Gods, Old or New, would not help her then she would do it herself. She could face down Lord Baratheon, or she would die trying. 

Her eyes drifted shut as the carriage bounced along the rocky roads, old familiar nightmares reaching her as she drifted off.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which introductions are exchanged...

“Miss. Stone welcome to Dragonstone” a kind, older man said as they exited the carriage on the dark volcanic island. Alayne held Steffon in her arms and little Stannis clung to her skirts, his thumb in his mouth as he looked to the manor with dark wide eyes. 

“Where are the dragons?” Dale asked and Sansa took his hand, a silent reminder to behave. 

“Thank you, sir?”

“Cressen, Miss” he nodded. 

“Thank you Mister Cressen,” she smiled her best smile at him, hoping he was kinder than his master. 

“Of course” he motioned to the others who began to unload the cart behind them with their belongings. “If you will accompany me, Miss, I will show you to the Nursery and governess’ quarters.”

“Nursery--” Allard protested but she cut him off with a glance and he only smiled sheepishly. 

“Stay with me, boys, I mean it,” she warned, following the butler inside the grand, gothic mansion. She gasped in surprise at the large looming figured of dragons carved into the walls, staircases and the chandelier that hung above them. Everything was black and jagged, as if made from dragon glass itself. She feared if she touched the wrong piece of architecture she would cut herself terribly. 

As they neared the staircase a great boom filled the foyer and the boys huddled closer to her as the heavy, angry footsteps echoed around them. 

She turned, watching with bated breath as a shadowy form took hold in the hall, then soon he was a man--no, not a man, _the_ man. He was tall, impossibly so, but thin and lean, towering over all in the room. He wore all black, from neck to polished hessians, jacket billowing behind him like dragon’s wings. She felt Maric hide behind her as she looked to the man’s face, angular, thin and angry, his midnight blue eyes looked like a stormy sea beneath dark angry brows. His hair, what was left, was liberally threaded with silver as well, making him look old beyond his years. 

Realizing he was now quite close, she forced herself to break his gaze, curtseying, “Your Grace.”

“Miss. Stone I presume?” his voice was deep, rumbling and cold. 

“Yes, your grace” she resumed her full height, for once grateful that she seemed to tower over most, her head reached his mid chest and seemed to catch him off guard. 

His gaze swept over the children, lingering on the babe in her arms before meeting her gaze once more, “I trust you will find your arrangements suitable, should you need anything, Cressen will assist you” he sneered. 

“Thank you, your grace” she bowed her head. “And if I may, I offer condolences to you on the loss of your friend Lord Rainwood.”

“What would you know of my friendship with Lord Rainwood?” he snapped, his eyes flashing and she felt the boys hug tighter to her legs. 

“I have worked for the Lord and Lady Rainwood just over three years, your grace” she explained, speaking clearly. “I had occasion to hear much of your time with Lord Rainwood.”

The Duke let out an of scoff, the sound cold and mirthless, “You are nothing but a child, you know nothing of what we experienced. Know nothing of war.”

Stannis watched the warmth fade from her ice-blue eyes at his words and he wondered idly what nerve he could have struck. 

When he had come to greet them, he had expected an older woman, plump and inclined to frequent naps, but instead he finds his seven wards hunkered around a tall, slender beauty. As he approached he noticed her skin was a flawless porcelain with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, her eyes a bright blue that reminded him of the skies above the open sea. Her hair was covered by an odd sort of turban, the soft yellow material complementing her complexion and hiding her hair completely. He humphed, if her dark brows were anything to go by her hair would be as dull as her personality. 

“As you say, your grace” her voice had the edge of dragon glass as she bowed her head. He could see it though, the fury in his assumption. Good, he thought. Perhaps if he offends her, she will do the work in avoiding him and make his life easier. 

“Be sure to keep your charges under control” he warned her. “This Island holds many dangers, I should hate to see them injured” he looked once more to the babe in her arms, the youngest which made him Steffon. Glancing quickly he found the second smallest boy, nearly hidden by her yellow skirt, Stannis. His namesake...he swallowed a lump of unfamiliar emotion.

“Of course, your grace” she agreed breaking his trance. 

“As I said, this Island holds many dangers---”

“You already said that” a small voice echoed and he saw her eyes widen in fear. 

“Matthos” she scolded without looking to see who spoke. Quite a handy skill, to know their voices. 

“Sorry, your grace” the boy spoke, moving behind his older brother. 

“Indeed” he met her gaze once more. “Cressen will see you to your chambers, Miss. Stone” he said. Stone, a bastards name, lovely.

“If I may, your grace” she spoke boldly. “I would properly introduce you to the boys, as it has been sometime since you have last seen them” her words held an edge of chastisement that raised his hackles. How dare she... But she continued, eyes alight once more, “Lord Dale Seaworth, heir to Viscount Rainwood” she spoke and the oldest bowed impeccably. “Ser Allard Seaworth” the second boy bowed. “Ser Matthos Seaworth” he bowed, wiping his nose as he stood. “Ser Maric Seaworth” another, slightly less perfect bow. “Ser Devon Seaworth” the small boy gave a clumsy bow, holding to her skirts. “Ser Stannis Seaworth” she said softly and the young boy clutching her leg bent quickly at the waist before hiding once more. “And Ser Steffon Seaworth” she smiled at the babe in her arms, the affection there obvious. 

It was unmistakable that she had worked hard to teach them how to be proper gentlemen and lords, and the boys trusted and cared for her in return. Finding he could not refuse, he met her formal introduction with one of his own. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you young gentlemen, I am Lord Stannis Baratheon, Duke of Dragonstone and High Admiral of his Majesty’s Royal Navy” he bowed to them and stood, seeing the soft smile on her lips. “I trust we are all now well acquainted.”

“Thank you, your grace” she curtsied once more. 

“You can arrange with Cressen on the times you will take your meals, and--”

“Will you not join us?” she asked. 

“I should think not,” he replied coolly.

Seeing she had hit his boundary for the day, she lowered her head, “I apologize, your grace. I will work with Cressen, as you instructed.”

He raised a dark brow but did not address her, merely nodded to the butler, “As you were, Cressen” and then spun on his heel, storming back from which he came. 

“He’s scary” Stannis whispered softly once the Duke was gone. 

“He’s lonely, my love,” she told Stannis with a smile. “Come, let us see our rooms” she turned to Cressen who gave her an odd sort of smile before leading them up the grand staircase and into the children’s wing. 

She found the nursery surprisingly bright, having recently been cleaned and the bedding laid out, the large room had six beds together at the end, 3 on one wall and 3 on the other, and to the right were tables, chairs and tablets for them to use, along with an array of toys. She was surprised, it must not have been the Duke who handled this, but Cressen. 

She crouched to the boys who were eyeing the toys with wide eyes, “It’s alright, go on” she encouraged and 5 of the 6 at her feet moved away, Stannis staying at her skirt. “Thank you, for your kindness,” she told the valet and he bowed his head. 

“Since the youngest requires more care, I have a small bed that can be placed in your chambers, miss, or with---”

“No, he will stay with me” she decided. “It has been some months, Mister Cressen, and by now I fear that Steffon is loathe to be parted from me.”

“Understandable, miss” Cressen agreed. “I will make the arrangements. Regarding meals, how would you like to proceed?”

“I should not like to make extra work, we shall eat at the same time as the staff” she replied. “I will not expect his grace to stand on ceremony with us and I would not like to inconvenience you with so many new mouths.”

“It is no inconvenience, in truth is grace eats in his study” Cressen paused. “He is a solitary man.”

“I have heard much tale of Lord Baratheon” she replied.

“I am afraid, much of them are true, miss” Cressen gave her a sad smile. 

“I am glad to have you as an aly, ser” she smiled.

“The staff are glad to have children among them once more” he glanced to the boys. “We are hoping it will ...lighten the house. If I may be so bold.” 

“We shall do our best, ser” she followed as he then lead her across the hall to her own rooms. They were bigger than anything she had had in years, the bed large and plush, beside it a smaller crib for Steffon, a vanity and chest of drawers and her own fireplace. Though the furniture was dark, heavy wood and the walls just as dark, the curtains and bedding were a crisp bright white. Her trunks and bag already lay by the bed, and she assumed the boys’ things were in their room across the hall. “Oh it's lovely” she smiled. 

“I am glad you are pleased miss, welcome to Dragonstone” he gave a bow and moved to the hall and was gone. 

“Alayne” a small voice cried for her and she moved to the doorway so Devon could see her. 

“I am here, my dear” she smiled at him. “This is my room, and if you ever need me, I shall be here, alright?” the boy nodded before darting back to his brothers. She turned and set Steffon on the bed against the pillows before picking up Stannis and setting him beside his brother. “Alright my loves” she kissed Stannis’ cheek and he giggled. “Sit tight and I will have your blanket in no time” moved to the trunks, singing softly as she always did to comfort the boys as she searched for their favorite blanket and bear. 

Down the hall, hidden in the shadows the tall, thin man listened to the sound of her voice as it echoed in the stone manor. He listened and then watched as she danced across the hall, Steffon in her arms and Stannis bouncing around her, a stuffed bear in his small arms. She vanished into the nursery and the singing continued, soon joined by laughter. 

Turning away from the sound, he kept to the shadows as he made, what he would call, a tactical retreat.


	3. Part 3

_Three Years Ago  
King’s Landing - The Docks_

_“Are ye ready--” Davos’ voice broke off as she spotted a glimpse of red in the waves. Moving closer he realized it was hair. “Man overboard!” he yelled to his crew and they quickly tossed him a rope, which he tied to his waist before jumping into the water around the docks. He swam to the hair and was shocked to see how much there was...a woman? He turned her in the water and stared at her porcelain skin, lips a frigid blue. “Heave in!” he yelled and his men began to pull him back to his ship._

_Crawling to the deck of his ship, he laid her on her back, his crew backed up, giving him space. She was young, finely dressed and likely dead. Pinching her nose he covered her mouth with his and forced as much air into her as he could. Nothing. Again he tried. Nothing. “Gods be damned” he tried once more before moving to push her chest and with a violent surge she coughed sea water onto the deck. Gasping for air as she cried out. “Ssh, you’re alright,” he assured her as wide blue eyes looked around._

_“Please” she coughed, her voice ragged as she looked up at him from the deck. “Please…”_

_“You’re alright” he promised her._

_“But I don’t want to be alright” she sobbed. “I wanted to die ...to leave this place.”_

_“Miss…” his eyes drifted to the direwolf clasp of her cloak, her fine silk dress, then to the red of her hair and the blue of her eyes. “Lady---”_

_“Do not speak it” she cried. “If you speak it, then it is true and they will come ...they always come” she sobbed._

_“Captain?”_

_Davos leaned back on his heels, “It seems Miss. Stone here has lost her way” Davos said to his crew. “I will take her to my lady wife.”_

_“Aye, ser” they crew nodded, returning to their work._

_“I am Davos Seaworth, no that’s not right” he chuckled kindly. “I guess I am Viscount Rainwood now, though I am low born as a bastard in flea bottom. If you seek to hide, I know just the place.”_

_“Please” she begged._

_“First things first, we need to cover your hair” he smiled and she felt safe for the first time in a very, very long time._

She woke with a jolt, coming awake quickly as she had most days for the past three years. She felt the small form of Little Stannis beside her and smiled, he must have climbed in during the night, snuggled against her body as he usually did. Glancing to the crib she saw Steffon was standing at the side, bouncing happily. 

“Good morning my darling” she slid carefully from the bed and scooped him up, seeing to his nappy before hugging him close. She set him beside Little Stannis’ waking form as she quickly dressed in her usual modest gown and checked her hair cover diligently. It was Davos who had taught her how to tie the best turbans, and she learned well. “Now then, let’s go find your brothers, right darlings?” She picked up Steffon and Little Stannis followed as they crossed the hall and began to wake the others. 

Stannis was writing yet another letter to his brother when the racket reached him. At first it was the occasional laugh, then it was loud voices and the sound of stomping. Blast it all, he stood abruptly and tore open the study door. 

He looked up the stairs with a scowl, he should have known. The blasted beautiful governess, he stormed back into his study and slammed the door. Why couldn’t she have been ugly, or at least a fool, no instead Davos had sent him someone young and beautiful. 

“Of course you would, you onion eating goat” he crossed to the window, looking out to the sea. How would he be able to bear this for another 18 years….Gods, he chuckled, he could be dead before that, then the blasted governess would have to oversee everything. 

Crossing to the door, he flung it open once more, his long legs easily carrying him to and up the stairs. He made his way through the halls until he stood once more in the shadows outside of the Nursery. 

“Do you know why father’s sigil is an onion, Alayne” one of the boys asked and Stannis was surprised to hear the boy use her given name. 

“Of course, darlin---no, Steffon that doesn’t go in your mouth” she laughed softly, the sound enchanting. “During King Robert’s rebellion, there was a great siege at Storm’s End” Stannis heard and his heart clenched, gut rolling as memories flooded him. “The great Lord Stannis Baratheon had been surrounded in his home by the evil dragons” she told the story with such emotion, it made him ill. “The fat Tyrell lord feasted outside the walls as the men starved, but soon, a heroic smuggler named Davos Seaworth snuck past their siege and into the keep, bringing saltfish and onions” she continued. “And the brave smuggler helped the men to stay alive until Lord Eddard Stark, Ned...came to liberate them” he listened and found it odd that the girl would use Lord Stark’s nickname when telling a story. Curious and presumptuous of her. “The fat Tyrell lord was trapped and Lord Baratheon, Lord Stark and the Onion Knight had won the day” she clapped with a laugh and the boys joined her. 

“Does that mean the Dragon, he was father’s friend?” one of the boys asked. 

“The best of friends, love” she assured him. “True brothers.”

“Does he hate us?” a smaller voice asked. 

“Who?”

“The Dragon?”

Stannis could only presume now beyond a doubt that he was the ‘Dragon’ these children feared. 

“No, my love” she assured the boy. “Lord Baratheon is a good man, but he has been alone for so long, he does not know how to be friends. And he is not a dragon at all, but a great flaming stag!”

Stannis hissed internally at her words, grinding his teeth and storming away from the hall. He did not stop until he was back in his study. Stupid, presumptuous little girl, he slammed the door. She painted him as the lonely hero of war. What did she know. The horror of the siege, the nightmares, the horrific things they did to stay alive in those walls, crying in relief as the Stark armies crested the hill to save them. She painted a pretty picture for the boys, one that could not be farther from the truth. 

Muttering to himself, he returned to his letters, doing his best to ignore the laughter echoing on the stone. 

Later that night, when the boys were asleep, she crossed to her trunks and opened the largest one to dig to the bottom. She found it quickly, hand closing around the rough fabric around the iron. She opened it slowly, the metal glinting in the dim light of her chamber. Red eyes glinted, shone and she smiled as her fingers danced over the sharp teeth of the direwolf. She hummed softly, the song of her house as she thought back on the time they were all together, so long ago.

 _I wish I had never left home_ her eyes moved to Steffon, sleeping soundly in the crib, _No_ she frowned. If she had never left home she would never have known the Seaworths. They had given her so much, a home, a life, a purpose. She looked to her chipped nails, no longer the nails of a lady, but the nails of governess, a maid. The nails of a dead woman walking….she cursed, silently recovering the wolf and tucking it away. No one will ever know, and no one will come for her. 

She closed the trunk and crawled into bed, settling just as tiny footsteps reached her and she saw Little Stannis crawl into bed with her. 

“Sleep, my love,” she assured him and he burrowed against her as they both fell into slumber.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A violent (canon typical) flashback in italics in the beginning, just a warning.

_Three Years Ago  
King’s Landing - The Great Hall_

_The marble of the steps bit into her hand as she fell before the boy king, another wave of pain passing through her body. Pain she was used to, it has been her companion these years. She had been at his mercy for nearly two years now, a prisoner since the moment he took her father’s head._

_“Get up, you stupid wolf bitch” his voice hissed, echoing like a hundred snakes on the cold walls._

_“She cannot--”_

_“Do not speak for her!” Joffrey turned his glare on the newcomer, his uncle, Lord Tyrion._

_“Enough,” Tyrion stood now beside her, his small stature filling her line of sight._

_“Her brother--”_

_“Is dead” Tyrion spoke and she felt the words once more as they lanced through her heart. “And if you beat Lady Sansa to death, you will lose whatever hold you think you have on the North” Tyrion turned to her then motioned to the guard behind her, “Clegane.”_

_She felt the heavy fabric settle across her bare back and shoulders and she cried out in pain, the fresh lash marks protesting against the touch. A moment later, strong, armored arms lifted her and the pain was too great, pulling her into darkness._

“Oh no, no” Alayne laughed as she chased a very naked Little Stannis down the hall. “Come back here you” she called as he toddled along. Today one of the other maids, Essie, was helping her to bathe the boys, some of whom were more reluctant than others. 

They had been at Dragonstone a moon’s turn now, and she found they had settled into a content, solitary sort of life. They did not see or hear much from the Duke, the scowling man had been called away on business a fortnight ago and life at the Island went quietly on. 

“Got you” she laughed, scooping a giggling Little Stannis into her arms to blow a raspberry into his chubby cheek, doubling his laughter. 

“Well,” a deep voice emerged from the shadows. 

“Your grace” she curtsied, standing as he removed his hat and gloves handing them to Cressen who stood in his great shadow. He looked tired, she frowned, and the beard that had grown in at his cheeks softened his appearance some. 

“I leave for a fortnight and I come back to my home having been filled with wildlings” he glared down at her. “Tell me, is this” he motioned to Little Stannis in her arms. “A common occurrence then?”

“I believe it will be, as I find it most helpful to bathe while naked, your grace” she met his gaze without fear. 

“Cressen, take the boy to the nursery so that I may have a word with Miss. Stone” the Duke’s words left no room for objections. She whispered assurances to Little Stannis before handing him to Cressen who gave her a comforting smile before heading above stairs. “Come” the word was frost-covered as he moved towards his study. 

She followed him, preparing herself for whatever tongue lashing he would serve her. This man, this infuriating man, was so focused on hating everyone around him that he wouldn’t move an inch. He would break before he bent. 

Once inside, he whirled on her, “Miss. Stone, I would kindly remind you that you are in my home, under my care and under my employ.”

“Your grace--”

“You will hold a civil tongue in your mouth or you will be replaced” he threatened. 

Fury boiled in her veins, “Your. Grace. While I acknowledge we are in your home and under your care, I am not in your employ, as I have not received nor asked for wages. And please, by all means, I will leave your employ this moment if you can tell me the name of every boy in that nursery without consulting your letters” she challenged and held his stormy gaze as it bore through her. 

Gods, he watched her square her shoulders, standing tall as if she was a lady in court. Who _was_ this creature sent to torment him. Damn you, Davos...

She was right, he could not recall the names of all the boys but she had no right to speak to him as such. Removing his riding jacket to toss it across his desk behind him he fixed her once more with a glower, “You forget your station,” he warned her. 

“And you forget they are _children_ , your grace” she countered. “Living, human children who have lost their parents and their home. If you would only get to know them---”

“Get to know them” he scoffed. “They are not my children, Miss. Stone, I do not need to get to know them!”

“No, your grace, they are not your children,” she said sadly, her blue eyes swirling with emotion. “Nor are they mine, but we are all that they have, their last connection to their parents. You knew Ser Davos better than anyone, tell them of him, remind them.”

“Tell them what?” he slammed his hand on the desk, surprised when she did not flinch. “That we killed men together? That we laid waste to cities together? That I sat, starving in Storm’s End until a smuggler and Lord Stark saved us? That I had to eat my horse, stop my men from eating the dead?” he asked, invading her space to tower over her. “Or perhaps, Miss. Stone, I would tell them we overthrew a dynasty to place my brother on the throne, only for him to roll into his cups and die, leaving us with the Lannisters pulling the strings? War is no place for young boys or children.”

“War affects everyone, your grace” she spoke plainly. “From the men on the front lines to the heights of the Vale and to The Wall, it ripples through the whole kingdom. I hope that these boys never live the horrors you have had to face, I pray for it daily. But it does not change the fact that you spent decades with their father, he called you brother, trusted you to protect us” her voice was softer now, pleading and he ground his teeth against the urge to soften.

“Miss. Stone, I do not have time---”

“Make time” she argued. 

“Who are you to make demands of me?” he countered. 

“I am the woman sworn to protect those boys. I am the only mother most of them will ever remember, your grace” she would not back down, not now. 

Finally they were having a real conversation. This man, so strong and imposing, was haunted by war, by what they had been forced to do. The shadows danced in his eyes, clouding his vision. It was the same look she found in her father’s eyes many years ago. A look that her mother would be able to banish with a soft kiss and loving embrace. 

“If you seek to protect them, you will not allow the war-torn to corrupt them” he stated. 

“Sometimes, protecting those you love isn’t about hiding them away in a gilded cage,” she replied. “But instead you give them every weapon, every piece of armor they will ever need in order to fight and protect themselves.”

“You would have me tell these boys tales of war?”

“No---”

“To do what? Terrify them?” he demanded. 

“You already terrify them!” she yelled back and in a flash his long fingers had wrapped around her upper arms and pulled her roughly against his chest, forcing her gaze to his. 

“And do I terrify you?” he hissed, their faces close enough to share breath.

“I’ve seen far worse than you” she spat back, raising a defiant brow. 

“And yet you tremble” his voice dropped lower, darker. “Your body betrays you.”

She could not form the words, her brain suddenly unable to process a reply as she could feel every inch of him, pressing closer as they breathed. Body betrays her indeed. She had never been this close to a man, never felt the expansion of a chest as it breathed in time with her own, never felt the heat of a gaze like this…

“Your grace” she heard herself whimper, the tone foreign to her own ears and abruptly she was cast away from him. She felt the cold of the room seep into her as she stumbled away, leaning on the bookcase behind her.

“Tell me” the Duke moed behind his desk and sank into his chair, effectively cutting her off. “Were you this impertinent with Davos?”

“Yes” she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt in this moment. 

He let out a small scoff, shaking his head “You will keep your charges under you control and decently clothed should they come below stairs.”

“Your grace--”

“You are dismissed, Miss. Stone” he made a point of looking through the letters on his desk and she stormed from the room, not bothering to curtsey. She made her way up the stairs but before she entered the nursery she took several long breaths, relaxing her temper and schooling her features. 

Once poised, she smiled and entered, “Alright my darlings, who is next?”

That evening, Stannis sat before the fire in his study, staring into the flames as if they held the secrets of the world. He had followed a lead, a tip that one of the missing Stark daughters had been seen in the Stormlands, all of it coming to nothing. Another bitter disappointment. 

For three years the oldest girl had been missing, vanished from the Red Keep in the chaos of a riot. The youngest had gone missing the day of her father’s death. Once it had been rumored that Ser Sandor Clegane had stolen them, but rumors of the Hound’s death near the Eyrie soon debunked that. 

All he knew was they the North was in chaos and King Joffrey’s hold on it was slipping, quickly. At this rate, Lord Tywin himself would not be able to hold it much longer. Lord Bolton had taken Winterfell and nearly destroyed it in the process. There must always be a Stark at Winterfell, he knew the words well, but he had no Stark, only a bastard sworn to the Black who refused to budge. If he could only find the eldest, the key, and back her claim; then he would be able to bring the North together and hopefully to support his cause. 

He had been angry, out of sorts since the moment he returned home. Walking into the house to be greeted by a rather naked, but happy little boy and the beautiful woman running towards him had struck him like a blow. For a split moment he allowed himself to believe that someone might be happy to greet him, would be waiting with a smile to welcome him home. But that was dashed away as soon as the idea took form. 

No, instead he was met with the defiant tilt of her chin, the challenge in her brow and the pride in her posture. 

He had not meant to touch her, had not meant to pull her so close, to feel her lush body against his, and now that he had it played on a cycle in his mind. The bright blue of her eyes, lightly flecked with green, the mole in the hollow of her left cheek…

She had faced down his anger and not given an inch of retreat. Were she a man he would have thought her a considerable opponent on the battlefield. Who was this creature sent to torment him...

“Damn you Davos” he muttered for the thousandth time, pinching the bridge of his nose.


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sensitive content, there is a mention of/attempted rape in the flashback in the beginning. If you would prefer not to read it, just scroll passed the italics.

_Nearly Four Years Ago Now  
King’s Landing - The Great Hall_

_“Ser Meryn, rape her” the king ordered and she screamed as the guard threw her down to the marble. She kicked, punched and clawed as the Kingsguard tore at her dress and small clothes. She felt the air of the throne room hit her bare flesh as his hands groped her._

_The other guards, the members of the court, the Queen Mother were watching, none of them moving to help her. Ser Mery’s hands gripped her thighs in a bruising hold, forcing them apart as she screamed._

_“Ser Meryn, stop” the king ordered, his tone almost lazy but the guard obeyed, releasing her._

_She wrapped her torn clothes around her as she sobbed, the sound of the monster’s footsteps reached her as his shoes came into view._

_“Poor little traitor” he laughed down at her, circling her. “I could have any one of these men rape you” he motioned to the guards and court. “I should let them all have you! I can do what I like with you, I own you!” he kicked her side and she gasped in pain._

_“My King” Cersei’s voice rang in the hall. “Come, we are going to be late for lunch with your betrothed.”_

_“Ah yes, cannot keep Lady Margaery waiting” he laughed. “Lucky whore” he kicked her once more and left her on the cold marble._

_“No more” she whispered to herself. A prayer. A promise. “No. More.”_

Stannis had woken just as out of sorts as he had been for the past sennight since his argument with Miss. Stone. What little sleep he did get seemed to be invaded by the blasted governess. Her words, her body, her passion haunted him. She had chastised him for his behavior, asked him not for money or possessions, but for his time. Time to remind the boys of who they were, of what their legacy was. He found that he could not fault her for such demands.

Cressen arrived to help him with his cravat, the man humming softly as he worked. 

“You’re humming” Stannis stated, looking down at the smaller man. 

“I did not realize. I apologize, your grace” Cressen refocused on his cravat. 

“What song was it?” Stannis found himself asking, watching the man’s reflection in the mirror. 

“I do not know the name. Miss. Stone was singing it to the boys in the garden yesterday and it was quite catchy” Cressen explained, stepping back. “There you are.”

“Thank you Cressen, that will be all” Stannis dismissed him and made his way to his study. 

He nearly made it there.

“Your grace” her soft voice reached him as he crossed in front of the small dining room. “Would you like to join us?” He paused his walk, looking to see her sitting at the end of the table, Steffon on her lap as the other boys ate their breakfast around her. 

“Is it true you’re a flaming stag?” one of the older boys yelled. 

“Allard” she looked to the boy, silently reminding him of his manners. 

“I am” Stannis replied from the doorway. “The Baratheon sigil is a prancing stag, my own sigil features the flames of R’hllor” he moved, albeit hesitantly into the dining room. 

“Don’t the flames hurt the stag?” another boy asked and he saw the governess smile. 

“No, my love, it is just a sigil” she assured him.

“Like the direwolf!” a boy to her right said, smiling brightly at her. How the devil does she keep their names straight.

“Exactly, Maric” she smiled. 

“You teach them heraldry?” he asked. 

“House histories and mottos, yes, your grace” she nodded. “It is important to know the lay of the realm.”

“And house Arryn?” he quizzed.

“High as honor” the oldest boy, Dale, proclaimed, holding up his spoon. 

“Tyrell?”

“Growing strong” Dale answered again. 

“I do not like the flowers” another boy chimed. 

“Ah, but roses have thorns” Miss. Stone teased. She was not wrong.

“Stark.”

“Winter is coming” Allard spoke proudly, the governess smiling over at him. 

“Bolton?” Stannis asked and the boys were quiet. 

“Our blades are strong” the governess’ voice reminded them, though it sounded cold, aloof. 

Stannis motioned to the servant and moved to the chair opposite the governess, sitting smoothly to watch her. As it was the small dining room it only sat ten, which meant with his addition the table was nearly full. Closest to him on the left sat the eldest, Dale, eating happily from his porridge bowl. 

“Did you always want to be a governess, Miss. Stone?” he asked as a servant set a bowl of porridge in front of him. 

“No, your grace” she replied softly, helping Steffon to drink from the bottle in her hand. “I dreamed of what all little girls dream of being, queen.”

“Ah, but Queen Cersei is not likely to give that title up. Especially not for one as lowborn as you” Stannis quipped. 

“Lannisters never want to relinquish what they have stolen,” she said, her tone flippant as she smiled at the babe in her arms.

“Lions are dangerous” Dale announced with a smile, having recognized the Lannister name. 

“That they are” Stannis couldn’t help but agree, glancing to the governess whose cheeks were tinged with pink. “But that is not their official words.”

She had called out to him on impulse as he walked by, never once thinking that he would stop or engage with the children. She could have laughed in shock when he asked for his own food and joined them. When she had asked for his time, she had never hoped to actually receive it.

Now she watched the Duke as he carefully ate his breakfast, his assessing gaze making her quite nervous. She had forgotten herself, when he asked after the Boltons and hoped she had not piqued his interest. She had silently cursed herself before focusing on Steffon. 

So long ago, Davos and Marya had given her safe-haven, protecting her from those who would see her house forgotten or worse. In turn, all they asked was that she teach their sons how to be Lords, teach Lady Marya how to be a Lady if called upon. They were lowborn, newly elevated to their station and would do anything needed to protect their sons from the harsh words of nobility. She had worked hard to prepare them. Hair covered, fine clothes burned and replaced with those of a servant, she became what she needed to be to survive.

Her teachings had gone unnoticed on the busy shores of King’s Landing, but now, the sharp eyes and ears of Stannis Baratheon were watching her closely. She would have to move carefully to avoid giving herself away. 

_Every lie, holds an ounce of truth,_ Davos told her, so if she stuck closely to her truth, she would be alright. 

Looking to Steffon who was smiling happily in her arms, she couldn’t help but smile back. The babe’s curious eyes always made her happy. Like with Little Stannis she had been there for his birth, watching as they came into the world and helping Marya every step of the way. She had been the first to hold Steffon, his cries quieting in her arms and she could only watch in awe of the wonderous human that had joined the world. 

Since the Seaworth’s had passed nearly six months ago, she had come to feel that Steffon was her own, the boys her own to protect and care for, and she would do so until her dying breath. Even if it meant facing down the Duke who scowled and glowered so well.

“Lord Baratheon” Allard spoke and her gaze moved to him, terrified of his next words. “Did father really smuggle you onions?”

After a moment's pause, heavily considering the boys words, the Duke slightly inclined his head, “He did, along with saltfish and freshwater.”

“And he helped save the day?” Matthos asked. 

The Duke nodded once more, his eyes dark, “He did. But for him and Lord Stark, we would not have fared so well.”

“Could his sigil have been a fish then?” Dale asked. 

“No, the fish is already taken by an older house in the Riverlands” the Duke replied and she was thankful when he had not looked to her. “House Tully” he added. 

“Family, duty, honor!” Dale smiled. 

“Just so” the Duke nodded and returned to his food.

“He’s in the dining room!” Essie all but screamed as she ran into the kitchen. 

“Who?” Cressen looked up in confusion. 

“Lord Baratheon” Essie replied. 

“No” Cressen made his way through the back stairs and up to peek into the dining room. From his hidden vantage he could see the Duke’s broad back at the end of the table, the bright smile of Miss. Stone at the other as the boys ate happily. 

He felt the others bumping into his back as they too tried to see, the rustle being Miss. Stone’s eyes to his own. He gave her a large smile and she acknowledged it with only the slightest nod, agreeing she was just as surprised as he was.


	6. Part 6

_Three Years Ago  
King’s Landing - Near The Catacombs_

_“Run faster girl” the Hound’s deep voice whispered as the sound of voices echoed above them. Closer and closer._

_“No” Sansa shook her head. “Sandor, take her” her steps slowing._

_“Sansa---”_

_“Arya please, you have to go. Take her Sandor” Sansa instructed him and moved away._

_“Little Bird” his voice was soft, grey eyes full of sorrow._

_“It’s the only way” Sansa promised. “They don’t know Arya is even here, that I have kept her hidden. Take her away, protect her. Please I beg you, Sandor. Arya, you have to go” she turned to her sister. “I love you” she promised as Sandor began to pull Arya away, one hand over her mouth to halt her protests, and with that Sansa turned and ran back._

_She ran, tears on her cheeks, pain coursing through her body from this mornings beating. She turned the staircase and ran through the courtyard and into the arms of the guards searching for her._

_“We’ve got her” one called as iron shackles locked around her wrists and she was dragged back into the Great Hall._

_“Stupid bitch” someone cursed her and she remained stoic._

_They had caught the stray wolf they sought. She prayed they would stop looking, prayed that Sandor could get Arya away. Safe. The sound of footsteps reached her and she saw King Joffrey and Ser Meryn Trant smiling as they joined her._

_Hit me, whip me, kill me. Do what you will, Arya would live. And she would make that trade again any day._

She watched from the shaded bench as the boys ran and played in the large courtyard that served as Dragonstone’s main entrance. It was well kept, flowers and bushes filling the dark yard and had plenty of shade for her to enjoy while they ran themselves ragged. They had much more space here to run around than they had in the city, and the boys thrived on it. 

While Dale, Allard and Matthos were running alongside hoops, racing them down the stone, Maric and Devon lay on a grassy patch near the flowers, their tin soldiers propped up in an elaborate game. Little Stannis, of course was by her side, bear in his arms as he chattered on. 

She heard the door open a second before Lord Baratheon appeared, pulling on his hat and gloves. 

“Your grace” she acknowledged as he looked across the yard and the playing boys. 

“Miss. Stone” he turned his hard gaze on her. “I shall be back in a fortnight, perhaps longer.”

“Then I wish you safe travels, your grace,” she replied. “We will be here upon your return.”

He gave a nod and looked closely at where Maric and Devon lay, his chin moving back and forth as he thought, “Maric, do not divide your armies, you cannot win a war on two fronts,” he instructed, pointing to the scattered soldiers. 

“Yes sir” Maric smiled, adjusting them until the Duke gave a small nod. 

“I bid you good day” he tipped his hat to her and with the whirl of a great coat, he was striding down the path to the stables. She wondered, as she watched him go, if he even realized that he had gotten Maric’s name right. 

It had been over a moon’s turn since he first joined them in the small dining room, and while she did not expect it to become a habit, he had shared several other meals with them since. Once a week or so, he would join them to break their fast or for dinner, bearing the boys’ rapid fire questions with as much patience as he could before abruptly standing and taking his leave. 

Though she had not learned much more of Davos from Lord Baratheon’s clipped answers, the boys loved having his undivided attention and soon they were no longer afraid of him. Children were resilient, Marya always told her, and she soon realized that the boys had accepted that their new Lord was just….abrupt. 

“Ma!” Steffon danced happily in her arms, pulling her away from her musings and back to her charges. 

Stannis stared at the helm, rusted and twisted but still quite clearly the visage of a hound. He had sailed to the Saltpans upon hearing that the Hound had torn through and destroyed everything in his wake. By all accounts, it sounded more like the work of the Hound’s older brother Gregor the Mountain, that had done this. 

Savage and cruel, they had cut, pillaged and raped until all appeared dead or dying. The helm was left in the center of the village and outcry over who committed this atrocity soon began. Stannis had thought the Hound had fallen near the Eyrie, but now his helm was marking him across the map. Unless, of course, he was correct and it was Gregor who did this and sought to frame his missing brother. If people are mad enough, they would run the Hound to ground and turn him in. 

But why go to all the trouble for a missing bannerman? Of low birth now less. Stannis sighed and rubbed his jaw, now more than ever believing that he would never find the missing Starks. A fool’s errand, he supposed. If they truly did not wish to be found, they wouldn’t. And what girl would want to be found when they know what awaited them. 

He read accounts from those in court of his kingly nephew’s treatment of Lady Sansa. Her public beatings, her humiliation and degradation. The likelihood of her escaping during a riot, as claimed, was slim to none. Should she _have_ escaped, she would never want to be found. But if Joffrey had been overzealous and accidentally killed her---or intentionally killed her, the Lannisters would hide that secret fiercely, knowing it would mean outcry in the North if the King had murdered who they consider their princess. 

Looking back at the helm, he sighed once more. He would sail back to Dragonstone tomorrow, and the following day arrive to the dark house. No---not dark, he found his thoughts drifting to Miss. Stone and the Seaworth boys. 

He could not say what impulse brought him back to the small dining room the second time. It had been dinner, hearty stew that the boys were very much enjoying when he had sat opposite the governess once more. This time, Steffon was asleep, wrapped in a cloth that banded around her to hold the babe to her chest as she helped Little Stannis to eat, talking softly to him as she wiped his chin. 

Though her gown was plain and her hair still covered with a dull cloth, her skin shone in the candlelight and danced in her eyes. Eyes that looked at the boys with such happiness. 

The boys had asked him about King Robert and then asked if he had ever seen any dragons and he told them about the skulls Robert kept locked beneath the keep. As he spoke, their eyes were wide and dark and Dale reminded him so much of Davos it made his chest ache. That evening, as he had turned to leave, his eyes met Miss. Stone’s and she mouthed ‘thank you’, cheeks bright as if he had handed the boys the moon. 

He did not sleep that night. 

They would be there upon his return, she had promised, and he found that oddly satisfying. The keep, though it would never be his ancestral home, did not sit bleak and empty anymore. Heaving himself from the chair, he readied for bed and the journey back tomorrow. 

The storm had come upon them hard and fast as they docked on the Island, all of them scrambling to their mounts and heading towards the keep. Dark had fallen, making it hard to see as rain poured in a great deluge around them. The harsh wind chilled them as they rode like the Stranger was on their heels to get inside. 

He was soaked by the time he entered the hall and while the staff saw to his things he called for a bath and moved to his rooms to shed his wet clothing. Thunder and lightning now filled the keep and he heard the soft cries from the nursery, then the sound of feet running before her soft voice reached him. 

“But it’s scary” one of the boys, Devon he would guess, protested. 

“It is, but you are safe, my loves” she assured them. “Dragonstone is the strongest keep in the realm and its stones are imbued with magic” he could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Magic?” the boys were intrigued now, the storm forgotten. 

“Oh yes, great magic. Dragons lived here, during the wars and rebellions, their great magic blessing the stones” she spoke and he heard shuffling. “Come get comfortable, all of you.”

He moved closer as he heard her start to sing, “High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts. The ones she had lost and the one she had found, and the ones who loved her the most..” he listened as her voice echoed in the stoney hall, soothing the children with the mourning melody as the storm raged outside. 

He listened until her voice fell silent and he felt his feet moving down the hall, carrying him towards the room, The light spilling from her doorway was a beacon that called to him and he could not refuse its call. Reaching it, he watched the toe of his boot as it moved into the light, the shadow falling away as he filled the doorway. His heart clenched, stomach dropping at the sight. 

The boys covered the bed, every square inch around where she sat was filled with a sleeping Seaworth boy and the smallest, Steffon, was asleep on her chest. 

She looked up as he appeared, smiling softly she whispered, “Welcome home, your grace.”


	7. Part 7

_Nearly Four Years Ago Now  
King’s Landing - Great Sept of Baelor _

_They were rioting, all around them there was screaming, yelling and fighting. The Kingsgaurd was doing their best to hold off the mob, but they were closing in the Red Keep. She had been at the Sept of Baelor for King Joffrey’s wedding to Lady Margaery Tyrell, now Queen Margaery, but the uprising came on too fast to escape._

_Looking down an alley, she saw her chance and ran._

_No one noticed, at least not right away. She was turning the corner when she heard them yelling for her. But she did not slow. She would escape this time, or she would jump from the city wall into the water. She could not live like this anymore._

_She prayed to the Maiden as she wove through the streets, alleys and houses. Shoving people out of the way. She felt the taste of salt from her sweat, her hair sticking to her face. “Faster girl, faster” she could hear Sandor barking in her ear._

_She prayed to the Mother as she saw the half-dozen men round the corner behind her. Taking the next staircase she felt one of them grab at her cloak and she cried out, tugging away. Then she was sprinting, trying to move faster. Every muscle in her body screamed from the exertion, from the pain she’d endured too long._

_“I will fucking kill you, you wolf bitch” a guard---Boros, screamed at her and she took another staircase. Up. Up. Up._

_She prayed to the Stranger, a God she had never appealed to before, as she reached the top of the wall. Running along the ramparts, the rocky shore and the vast ocean lay before her, and she breathed deeply._

_“No more” she prayed to the Old Gods and then jumped. Finally, the Little Bird found her wings._

Stannis had hardly slept, waking early to catch up on what he missed while he was away for a full moon’s turn. The sun had only begin to rise as he entered his study. It was then the screams started. Moving quickly to the door he saw it came from the nursery. 

Moving quickly, the silence of the hall was broken once more with a choking, gasping scream. He arrived in the hall to see the boys all standing in the doorway to the nursery, staring across the hall at their governess’ door. 

“It’s Alayne” Allard looked pale, afraid. 

He strode past them and threw open her door expecting to find an attacker. The room was empty and her small form was in the large bed, curled on her side as she gasped for air. 

“Miss. Stone” he moved toward her, kneeling on the bed. “Miss. Stone!” he grabbed her shoulder gently but she did not stir, her hands fisted at her throat as she choked. “Alayne!” he barked and she jolted awake as Steffon began to cry. 

Her bright blue eyes stared up at him, slowly coming into focus as the nightmare faded away, “Oh…”

“Gods woman,” he moved away. “Scared the Stranger himself with your screaming.”

One of her hands, trembling violently, went to her hair covering, smoothing over the fabric as if to ensure it was there, as she sat up. “I am sorry, your grace” she said softly. 

“Are you well?” he asked. 

She nodded, “Yes, I am sorry. Please forgive me.”

He gave a curt nod, looking to where the boys still stood across the hall. While they looked scared, he had a feeling that they had dealt with this before. In truth, Steffon had not started to cry until he had yelled at her.

“I am starting to believe you are a woman with a great many secrets, Miss. Stone” he mused. 

If possible, she grew even paler, “Sometimes, things are secret for good reason” she turned away to slide to the edge of the bed, but when she did the collar of her nightgown pulled and he saw the tops of scars across the back of her neck and the upper curve of her shoulder. Lashes, he would not mistake them for anything else. Davos would not have done this, not to a young woman, so who? 

She pulled on her robe, breaking the spell and he then realized the state of impropriety and moved to her door, “I will leave you to it, Miss. Stone” he excused himself, footsteps heavy as he returned to his study. 

It has been the rain, she realized as she washed her face. The sound of rushing water all around her never ceased to bring back the memory of her death. And she had died, of that she was certain. Davos had told her how he found her, what measures he took to literally breathe life back into her body. Sansa Stark had died, and in her place Alayne Stone came to life. Her new life’s father had even named her, and she was born anew. 

Finishing with her face, she tied the smock-apron around her dress and moved to pick up Steffon before joining the boys for their lesson. However she could tell by their faces that they were still shaking from this morning. It had been a long while since it had happened, she forgot how much it scared them. 

Kneeling to the carpet she pulled them close to hug them, all 6 clamoring to assure themselves that she was alright. 

“I believe” she smiled. “That today calls for a picnic.”

“No lessons?” Dale beamed. 

“Not today” she stroked his cheek. “The storm is gone and I believe we should enjoy the new sun” she called for Essie and asked for a picnic luncheon to be made before turning back to her charges. “Now then, grab your favorite toy and I will grab a book. We shall have a fun day today” she announced and the boys celebrated. 

Pondering over the events of that morning, Stannis found himself writing furiously at his desk. He would send this raven to his contact within King’s Landing, a trusted man of many secrets, to discover what he could about--he paused and lifted Davos’ letter, ‘Miss. Mordane’s School of Governesses’ and if the scars on Miss. Stones back were a remnant of her time there. 

He found himself anxious to discover her secret, to know what hid behind those vibrant blue eyes as she smiled and spoke her courtesies. He could reason it away as saying that he wanted to ensure the safety of the Seaworth boys, but in truth he found he simply wanted to know more about her. 

He would speak to her as well, but he would still do his due diligence and research. Davos wouldn’t have told him of her schooling if it was not important. 

Raven sent, he stood and, as was now habit, found himself following the echo of laughter in the halls. He found them in the courtyard, Miss. Stone sitting on the bench, a blanket spread before her as she read from a large illustrated book. 

Steffon was seated on the blanket in Dale’s lap, and without the baby in her arms he was reminded how impossibly slender she was. Such a slip of a woman should not be able to carry babes all day, but she did. She had a core of steel, he would reason, secrets and sorrow hidden beneath the warmth of a mother. 

“Come, your grace” she motioned to the bench beside her. “We are just about to get to the part about the Dragonlords of old Valyria” she smiled as the boys bounced in excitement.

And that was how the fierce Duke of Dragonstone found himself on a bench in the garden, listening to a fairy tale about dragons and the men who rode them, seven pairs of brown eyes staring back at them with wonder.

That night, after another boisterous dinner with the boys and Miss. Stone, Stannis found himself walking along the ramparts of the castle. The rain had relented some, leaving the air light and clean, if chilly. He found himself thinking of Miss. Stone, as he usually was these days, and the mystery she had become. 

Watching her with the boys, it was obvious that she loved them. Davos called her a ‘rare find’ and she was. So devoted to the children even after her Master’s had left. So much so that she hid all remnants of this mornings nightmare from them behind her smile and bright eyes. She spoke of it to no one as far as he knew. She was a solitary creature, surrounded by loved ones, he mused. Quite a conundrum. 

As if he conjured her, she appeared on the ramparts to his left, emerging from the stairs wrapped in a large brown cloak, the hood pulled up over her hair wrap, nearly hiding her face. 

“Oh, your grace” she greeted him. “I did not mean to intrude.”

“Nonsense” he assured her. “There is enough for both of us to enjoy the night.”

“I confess, the fresh air is something I could not pass up” she smiled softly. “Essie is watching the children, though they’re asleep. I just needed…..perspective.”

“And where better to get it than among the highest point in the castle” he noted. 

“Indeed” she breathed deeply, enjoying the cool air and hey lapsed into silence. Not an uncomfortable one, just the two of them enjoying the air. It was several minutes before she spoke, her voice soft, “Marya told me once that she would stand on the walls of King’s Landing and watch for her husband’s ship to come to port. I find that terribly romantic, waiting for them to come across the horizon.”

“Davos loved her deeply” Stannis noted. “He spoke much of her when we were away.”

“She joked that every time she saw her husband he left her with another child” she laughed, the sound lyrical and light. 

Stannis found himself chuckling, imagining Marya saying that, “They were blessed with many children.”

“They were” she agreed. “I miss them.”

“I felt the loss of him keenly” Stannis agreed. 

“If I may, you had not been to see him….” she trailed off before taking a breath and resuming. “He was excited for you to meet Little Stannis. I found I was excited to meet the man so beloved that he had a namesake in another family.”

He frowned, “I have been burdened by duty for quite some time” he faced her. “For some of us, the war didn’t stop when Robert took the throne.”

“No” she agreed. “For some it began that day.”

“How long were you in King’s Landing before you worked for the Seaworths?” he asked. 

“It felt like an eternity, but was only a handful of years, your grace,” she replied. “I was living there when your brother died, when King Joffrey ascended.”

“Ah yes, my _nephew_ ,”Stannis rolled his eyes. “What a waste of a rebellion.”

“They say that Lord Tywin Lannister runs the kingdom” she said with a shrug. “I wish they would just leave us all alone.”

“I couldn’t agree more Miss. Stone” he nodded. “Perhaps one day I will find the key, and we shall get our wish.”

“The key” she mused to herself, pulling the cloak tightly around her to ward off the chill. “If only it were as simple as that.”

“Nothing in politics is simple, I fear” he looked back to the horizon. “But I have to try.”

“You are an honourable man, Lord Baratheon” she smiled over at him. “And I bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight” he replied as she curtsied and vanished into the house once more. Alone on the ramparts, he felt her absence acutely.


	8. Part 8

_Just Over Three Years Ago  
King’s Landing - The House of Lord Rainwood_

_“Oh, he's so beautiful” she cried as she looked at the bundle in Marya’s arms. “Simply perfect in every way.”_

_“He is” Marya smiled through her exhaustion._

_“I believe he has the look of a Stannis about him” Davos mused as he looked at his newest son._

_“How can a babe look dour?” she teased her husband._

_Davos merely shook his head, “Honorable, strong and just, yes, Stannis Seaworth he shall be.”_

_Alayne smiled at the couple, the loving pair that had become her family, and the small life she had just watched enter the world. She had never seen a babe being born, not like this, and she did all she could to help Marya deliver her sixth son. Alayne gave an odd sort of laugh, were Marya of noble birth, her skill in birthing sons would have made her worth her weight in gold._

_“Would you like to hold him?” Marya asked her and she nodded, moving to sit beside them on the edge of the bed. Carefully, Marya placed the sleeping bundle into her arms and Alayne could only smile down at the beautiful baby._

_“He is wonderful” she beamed, stroking his soft cheek. At the touch, his eyes opened, fixing her with a curious stare, if a bit out of focus. “Hello Little Stannis” she greeted._

_“I will write to Lord Baratheon, tell him the news” Davos smiled brightly._

_“Invite him to come” Marya agreed. “It has been too long.”_

_Davos gave a curt now, “It has.”_

_Alayne only smiled at the babe in her arms, wondering if this would be her fate, to only hold the babes of another as she hid away from the world._

_Stannis mad a soft noise and she laughed, singing softly to him as he drifted back into slumber._

“What do they mean, dancing the waltz? What is a waltz?” Allard frowned as she read to them from a story book. 

“It is a dance shared only between two people,” she explained. “Instead of other dances, where the partners switch. It is a romantic dance.”

“Romantic, ugh” Dale sighed and lay back on the rug. “Gross.”

“It is not gross at all” she laughed. “Don’t be a goose?”

“Wall...walt, how do you spell it?” Matthos asked, trying to sound it out as she had taught him. 

“W-a-l-t-z” she smiled. 

“Z!” Devon proclaimed.

“What a silly word” Maric frowned. 

“I agree” she laughed. 

“Could you show us?” Allard asked, still very confused by the new dance they had just learned of.

“I could but I would need a partner,” she explained. 

“What about the Dragon” Devon pointed to the door behind her and she turned to see Lord Baratheon in the doorway, looking as imposing as ever in all black. 

“Your grace” she stood to curtsey. 

“Pardon my intrusion” he spoke plainly. 

“Can you wall...walls?” Maric asked. 

“Waltz, and yes I can” he replied. She felt her cheeks blush at the idea he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. “All gentlemen should learn to waltz.”

“Will you show us” Matthos was on his feet in a flash, rushing to his side. “In this story we are reading, the knight waltz with the princess.”

“Does he?” the Duke looked to her then and she felt her blush deepen. 

“A fairy tale to break up the stories of dragons, your grace,” she explained. 

“Of course” he nodded, moving then into the room. “May I?” he extended his hand, unsure if she would take it. 

“Your grace” she curtsied, setting the book down to take his hand. He wore no gloves, she could feel the warm slightly rough skin of his warrior’s hands and she wished she never had to let go. He led her to the open area of the nursery, the boys watching them as they walked. 

“There is no music, but we can make do” he said softly as she moved toward him, his hand coming around her waist. She started humming then, the melody clear and classic, and then they were dancing. Floating. 

He could have danced with her for hours, or certainly until she grew tired of humming. She stood tall, proud in his embrace as they moved, the steps as old as time themselves. Give, take, give, take…

He had heard the laughter as he returned from the stables, unable to prevent his feet from carrying him to the hall to hear the talk of dances, smiling as the boys stumbled around the word ‘waltz’. He did not regret eavesdropping if he was able to dance with her as a reward. 

She was the perfect partner, his match in every way as they moved about the room. As the time came to twirl her, he found himself wishing he could see her hair unbound, dancing about her. Then she was in his arms and he was dipping her, just slightly and she turned away, another white scar visible upon the column of her throat. 

His heart ached for her. What had she been through, what had she survived before Davos met her. 

She stood then, their ‘song’ ending as she curtsied once more, “Your grace.”

“Well met, Miss. Stone” he acknowledged. “I will see you all at dinner then?” he turned to the boys who were nodding. “Then I bid you good day.”

“Ugh” Dale sighed. “Romantic stuff.”

He had put off the conversation long enough. Too long. He was, if forced to admit, avoiding it. 

He had not heard back from his connection in King’s Landing, which was not unusual but made him uneasy. He found himself spending more and more time with Miss. Stone throughout the day and was growing increasingly more anxious to find out more about her. After their dinner with the boys, he decided that now was the time to address the mystery of her past. 

“Miss. Stone, a word” she swallowed thickly, handing Steffon to Essie. She kissed the babes cheek as he began to fuss at being away from her, Follow Essie upstairs, boys, and behave” she warned. As they went, she followed the Duke from the small dining room to his study. The room was dim, lit mainly by the fireplace and it smelled of the man himself, leather and lemon. 

“Your grace?” she prompted when he watched her with silence. 

“Where did you work, before you came under the Seaworth’s employ” he asked and she felt her stomach roll. 

“The Seaworth’s are my--were my first employ” she replied. _Stick close to your truths_ , she heard Davos’ voice in her head. 

He gave a nod and silence lapsed once more. She knew this tactic, watched the Great Lion himself use it on others. If a man were silent between questions, it would cause the weaker to contribute more information in the hopes they would be believed. Squaring her shoulders she stood stoic, waiting for him to speak again. It was several long moments before he did. 

“Davos was a good man” he began, his gaze locked on her. “Fair, and a good judge of character” he stated. 

“A smuggler must be a good judge of men,” she said, repeating words that Davos had spoken to her many times. 

“And he was” Lord Baratheon moved closer, crowding her. “Did he know your secrets, Miss. Stone?”

“I had no secrets from Lord Rainwood” she replied. 

“And yet you keep them from me” his voice was hard, cold as he stood inches from her. 

“I keep them from everyone,” she replied. 

“Except Davos.”

“Davos was one of my secrets, your grace” she met his gaze, looking into the blazing depths. 

“He trusted you” he growled. “So much so you’re trusted with his sons in his will, and yet…”he words trailed off as his eyes traveled to her lips, then jaw before locking in her neck. “You lie.”

“Your grace” she moved to step back but suddenly his arm was around her waist, hauling her back against him. 

“Who are you, Alayne Stone” he examined her face for some sort of clue. “Stone is a bastards name but you carry yourself with the grace of a Lady well born. There’s fire in your eyes, I can see it. Defiance not permitted in a servant seethes from your pores. You scream in your sleep and sing like an Angel, who _are_ you!” both of his arms held her tight against him now, one at her waist and the other at her shoulders, and she could only hold his lapels to anchor herself. 

“My name is Alayne Stone” she started. 

“You are lying” his voice was soft, but laced with warning. 

“Your grace” she pleaded.

“Who are you?” his words were barely above a whisper. “Who is this woman who occupies my every thought…” she felt her breath catch, unable to look away from his dark eyes. Her body felt too warm, the air too thin as he spoke. “A witch perhaps? A siren from the sea…” 

“Stannis” she whispered his name, a name she had spoken a thousand times but never like this. Begging, pleading, though for what she did not know. The tip of his nose brushed hers as his forehead rest against hers. 

“Who _are_ you” he asked softly, but before she could answer his mouth danced over hers, a soft caress at first and then lingering. The firm lips that were so often in a scowl, were surprisingly gentle against her own as he kissed her. Warmth rocketed through her at his touch, consuming her as she sank into his embrace. 

Her hands that had been grasping his lapels, found their way up his shoulders to card into his salt and pepper hair, her nails trailing across his scalp as her lips parted and he delved deeper. 

His body was beyond his control and had been since the moment he touched her once more. She was fitted against him, this slip of a woman who had so bewitched him, felt perfectly against the lean wall of his body. Her hands in his hair and wreaking havoc on his body as she parted her lips just enough to allow him to devour her mouth. 

It was passion. Desperation. Lust. Anger and possession, all in a single kiss.

He could feel her breasts against his chest as she panted, the fiery trail her fingernails left as they teased his scalp and he found he ached to do the same. Moving the hand from her shoulders he pulled at the hideous turban, wanting nothing more than to see her. 

Her reaction was instant and violent, shoving him away from her with a strength he didn't realize she possessed, crying out like a wet cat as she recoiled. Her hands were frantic, tucking the material away as she backed away from him. 

“No” she whispered, looking terrified now in truth. 

“NO?” he was angry at her rejection, at her lack of trust. “Who are you to tell me---”

“NO!” she yelled over him. 

“You trusted Davos but you cannot trust me!” he yelled. 

“I didn’t have a choice” she countered. “Please, your grace---”

“Get out” he cut her off, turning away and moving back to the fireplace. He expected her to flee, to run but as he turned back, she was standing shock still, her eyes locked on the twisted helm of the Hound that lay on his settee.

“No…” he barely heard the plea it was so soft.


	9. Part 9

_Two Years Ago  
King’s Landing - The House of Lord Rainwood_

_“Alayne” Davos’ voice was serious as he called her to the library he used for his private business. She handed baby Stannis to Marya and followed him into the library and he shut the door. “I want to talk with you about something important” he sat beside her on the settee._

_“Has something happened?” she paled._

_“No, but I want to set things in place if they should” he assured her, handing her a piece of parchment. “This is a new draft of my last will” he explained as she skimmed over the writing, lingering on her name. “If something happens to Marya and I together, you and the boys will be sent to Stannis, Admiral Baratheon” he continued. “I have made it ironclad he cannot refuse. He is a stubborn man, but good at heart. He will take you in, he will protect you.”_

_“Davos, you cannot tell him--”_

_“I will use your new name, Alayne Stone, on all legal recordings,” he told her. “But you _can_ trust him.”_

_“People can never know, people will die” she swallowed her tears. “I will never put your children at risk. Never put them in the paths of lions.”_

_“I know, Sansa” he wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But you cannot live a lie forever.”_

_“Why not?” she whispered._

_“Because you are the Queen of the North, Lady Sansa Stark and the heiress to Winterfell” he replied. “And some day, the people are going to need you, your people will need you.”_

_“Please--”_

_“Stannis is my brother, in all but blood” Davos said. “He knew your father well, trusted him. Though they were not bannermen to each other, they came to fight beside one another. Stannis will help you restore the North.”_

_“The Boltons--”_

_“Have no claim” Davos reasoned. “I do not want to argue and I cannot force you to press your claim when the time comes. But I will protect you and the boys. You have been a daughter to Marya and I, and always will be. Please let me protect my children by sending them to the best man I know to do the job.”_

Panic consumed her. She ran.

She ran to her room and cried, sobbing as her heart fell apart at the seams. That helm twisted and broken, one she knew so well from a previous life had stared back at her without the face she last saw in it. A scarred but honorable face, the face of a man sworn to take her sister to safety. 

She cried, praying over and over that Arya was safe, that she and Sandor had met it out of the Crownlands and were alive, happy. She sobbed, hidden in the corner of the room behind her trunks, face covered with a pillow she screamed her agony at the thought of losing her sister.

She had held to the hope that Arya and Sandor were living away from the world, happy. She had found a piece of happiness with the Seaworths, she had come to love them deeply and they were taken away, but she had their sons, their darling sons to care for. She had failed her family, she had been weak and broken in the Red Keep but she would never fail these boys. 

So while she would dream and daydream of his touch, of the kiss that had shaken the ice from her heart, she would avoid Lord Baratheon. She had to, or everything would be lost. 

Visions of the Lannister army tearing through the stone castle flashed behind her eyes, the boys crying and running from lions, no, she would _not_ let that happen. 

“Stupid wolf bitch” Joffrey’s words echoed. “You belong to me.”

She cried until she felt the small fingers grasp her own and then she gasped, dropping the pillow to see Little Stannis staring at her with wide eyes. She thought she had barred the door but he must have escaped from Essie and found her. 

“Alayne” he said softly, climbing onto her lap and snuggling beneath her chin. “Do not cry…”

She held him tight, face buried in his chocolate curls as she reminded herself this was why she was fighting. This was why the wolf in her chest was chained to the stones, a prisoner forever. This was why Sansa Stark had died. And why she should stay dead.

Stannis paced his study, his anger mounting until he was muttering to himself, cursing her. Her name, her beauty, the Gods be damned kiss. He cursed her. 

He had lost control, he had taken her lips, tasted deeply of her and he wanted more. He wanted to see her hair loose around her, to see her as she was meant to be and take her for his own. He ached for her. For the silk of her skin, the tilt of her chin, the love she showered upon seven boys that were not hers. He ached. 

He had lived a solitary life, took no wife and held no mistress, and had never understood the other men when they spoke of women they had bedded or even Robert when he spoke of Lyanna who he dearly loved. He did not understand that desire to surround yourself with another, to pull them into the flesh of your body and make them a part of you. He had thought perhaps he was lacking in some way to never have felt this, even vainly considered himself lucky. 

If he had only known it would be a governess that would stir that desire in him, he would have laughed at his future self. A governess with a warriors heart and lips that stirred his corpse of a body to life. 

Deflated he sank into the wingback chair before the fire, elbows on his knees and face in his hands as he tried to figure out how he would avoid her for the next 18 years. He would have to avoid her, as he could not simply stop himself from wanting her, it was too far gone now. She was a part of him, a shining piece amongst the broken decay he had become at war. 

With her he felt whole. He felt human once more. 

With her he loved once more. 

But he despised her secrets. 

“Lord Hand, see reason--”

“No” Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion glared across the table at Grand Maester Pycelle. “You have given me nothing of proof. No corpse, no prisoner, no evidence. She is not dead and she will be found.”

“Lady Sansa threw herself from the wall near the Sept of Baelor” Varys, the Master of Whispers reasoned. “The rocks below alone would ensure death. She is beyond even my web.”

“We cannot assume she is dead” Tywin shook his head, emerald eyes alight with fury. “Right now we have Lord Bolton claiming he has Arya Stark and has wed her to his bastard son. We need Lady Sansa Stark to upend their claim. She could be in this very city for all we know. You will find her and will bring her to me.”

“But King Joffrey has already wed--”

“If need be, I will marry her myself” Tywin spat. “She is essential for control of the North. If I need to be the one to put a son in her belly then so be it!” he spoke softly but his words were sharp as steel.

Varys stood as the council was dismissed, making his way back to his chambers where a little birdie waited for him. 

“Yes?” he asked, calmly and when they extended a hand he took the paper they held and they quickly scurried away. Sitting at the modest writing desk in his chambers he looked over the paper closely. Once. Twice. He did not find the answer he sought. But, of course, that was an answer of itself, was it not?. 

As he thought, another birdie arrived, a small boy with another piece of paper. He took it and read it over, but stopped when he found something unexpected but very important. 

“My my” he muttered to himself, holding the two totally unrelated pieces of information beside each other. “Not so unrelated after all” his eyes lingered on the name, an innocuous enough arrangement of letters, true, but one that changed everything.

Pondering deeply, he wrote a quick note in the margins and folded the papers tightly, tucking them into a raven’s carrier before sending the dark wings back to where it came. 

For the good of the realm, of course. 

“Father” Cersei called as she entered the Hand’s Solar. “I have heard that you are still searching for Sansa Stark” he accused coolly. 

Sipping his wine, unamused by his daughters intrusion, he gave a small nod from where he sat at the Small Council Table, “I am, though it is no business of yours.”

“But it is--”

“No, what _is_ your business is your son, the King” Tywin glared across the table at her. “He has been out of control for years. I come to King’s Landing in the wake of King Robert’s death to find your son has been abusing the key to the North in front of the entire court. Publicly humiliating a girl of ten and six for the simple reason that it amuses him. No, Cersei, you need not worry about Lady Sansa Stark any longer, you have much bigger concerns.”

He saw the anger in her emerald eyes, so like his own, “She is dead, they watched her leap from the wall. Lady Arya Stark is now Lady Bolton, I do not see--”

“And you do not need to” he assured her. “You need to worry about your precious son laying a hand on Margaery Tyrell and her running to that beastly Lady Olenna. Joffrey needs to end this obsession with violence now. Have him focus his energy on putting an heir in that bride of his. If you cannot bring him to heel, Cersei, I will and I promise you, you will not like my methods.”

“What will you do if you find Lady Sansa” Cersei asked. 

“Fuck a son into her and send her North with the Lannister armies like I intended to do before your guards allowed her to escape” Tywin stated plainly. He did not have time for any more of Cersei's games. 

“She is nothing but a traitor and a---”

“You tire me” he dismissed her. “Go and focus on the King and let me worry about the kingdom.”

With huff she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her like a child. He barely escaped the urge to roll his eyes as he returned to his work.


	10. Part 10

_Three Years Ago  
King’s Landing - The Hand’s Solar”_

_“You have become quite the talk of court” the Great Lion’s voice spoke and she did not face him, staring instead at his boots. Her entire body hurt, the lashings on her back still bled and oozed but the Hand of the King had requested her presence and would not be refused. “You will look at me when I speak to Lady Sansa” he demanded._

_Forcing her head to move and ignoring the fresh pain in her neck, she met his emerald gaze, “Lord Hand” she spoke, her voice vacant, hollow._

_“My Grandson seems to enjoy his time with you” the Great Lion spoke. She thought perhaps he was handsome once, but his eyes were full of cold calculation that sent fear through her. He was the true power behind the throne and has been for decades. “And your...treatment is much talked about.”_

_“His Grace the King is most kind” she spouted the words, hating each syllable. _Fuck the king_ Sandor’s voice echoed in her head. _

_“Yes, of course” the Lion stood, towering over her and as his hand took her chin and forced her to look at him, she felt the wound at her neck stretch then split, the warmth of her blood trailing down her shoulder, chest and into her dress between her breasts. The Hand watched the river of red with keen eyes but she did not flinch. “Lady Sansa” her name was a question._

_“I am a traitor’s daughter” she spoke firmly. “And a w-w-whore” she felt light headed as she said the word and as her vision swam before her the last thing she saw was the Great Lion calling for a Maester as she collapsed in his arms._

Lord Baratheon had been gone nearly a moon’s turn this time, much to her relief. He had ridden away after their argument. Cressen had mentioned that the Duke was searching for something and had been for several years. Occasionally he would get a lead and follow it, always coming back empty handed. 

She could tell that Little Stannis was still worried about her as he stuck closer than usual to her side for the first sennight after he found her crying. They had entered the winter months, and rain found them more often than not, so they had stuck to the nursery and glass garden, to focus on the boys’ lessons and helping with her extra energy. 

Being busy helped her not to think about the man who had taken her in his arms, kissed her with a passion she had never felt and then banished her from his presence. Had he killed the Hound? She swallowed her tears at the thought. If so, had he seen Arya? Her thoughts seemed to race at every hour of the day, tearing her apart. Pushing her worries aside she focused on her boys, making them laugh and smile. 

She was in the nursery when the castle doors slammed open, a chill running through the keep as the master returned. She had been putting the boys to bed, Essie seeing to Steffon as she felt the ominous mood hanging over her from the moment he arrived. 

“M-Miss. Stone” Cressen’s voice called to her as she closed the nursery door. 

“Yes?”

‘His Grace would like to speak with you” Cressen frowned deeply. 

“I will be there in a moment” she nodded, checking in on Essie and a sleeping Steffon before she moved to the sideboard, quickly washing her face. _Now_ , she told her reflection as she turned and walked to the Duke’s study. 

Another dead end, he cursed, storming into the castle and making his way to his study. He glared at Cressen who let him be as he closed the study door. 

Instantly his eyes went to the sealed scrolls on his desk. Tossing his coat aside he quickly opened the Spider’s seal to find two sheets of paper. One was a list of the known governess schools in King’s Landing, he quickly scanned the list and found no Miss. Mordane. Blast. The second list was of the household census for Winterfell, the year before Lord Stark became the Hand of the King. Scanning it, he found nothing out of place until he saw the tutor to the Stark girls, Septa Mordane….

The margin in fine script read “Beware of preying Lions.”

He sank into his chair, legs too weak to hold him. Gods. There it was. Davos had put the answer in front of him, delivered that which he had sought for years. His hand shook as he set the papers on his desk. Damn you Davos, he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

_“A rare find.”_

_“Miss. Mordane’s School of Governesses.”_

_“Should you choose to see it.”_

Everything clicked into place. Her beauty. Her grace, poise, education, posture ...her calling Lord Stark ‘Ned’ when she spoke to the boys…. _her hair_. Gods, he had been searching the whole of the kingdom for her, but she was here in Dragonstone. 

She was here, making him fall in love with her. 

He sighed deeply, “Cressen” he called softly and the valet appeared a moment later. “Send me Miss. Stone, now,” he demanded and the man vanished. 

Minutes later a knock came at the door and there she was, Gods, he cursed himself. I have been so blind. 

“Your grace” she moved into the room, closing the door. 

He took a deep breath and spoke. 

“The first time I met your father, I was ten and five” his deep voice filled the study and she watched him closely. “He was Robert’s best friend and I hated how much Robert loved him” his chuckle was cold. “The second time I met your father, he helped me liberate Storm’s End from a siege that changed everything I thought I knew about war. He rode over that hill and broke the siege that had us slowly starving to death” he stood, his long, lean body unfolding from the chair to pace to the fire. “We fought beside each other, made kings beside each other and then….” he shook his head. “He sent me a raven, days before he died in King’s Landing. Told me that Queen Cersei’s children were not Baratheons, that they were the children of Ser Jaime Lannister, her twin. Lord Jon Arryn figured it out and died for it. Your father figured it out and died for it” his eyes met hers. “I have been so blind, so impossibly blind to what stood in front of me.”

“Your grace” she felt fear coursing through her, her heart racing as she drank his words. Her father had reached out to him, to Stannis, about the throne…

“I have been searching for the daughters of Lord Eddard Stark for over three years,” he said, looking to the fire once more. “I thought that if I could find a Stark, I would bring her in as my aly and I could unite the North and press the claim to what is mine by right. The Queen betrayed my brother, betrayed the kingdom and that cannot stand. I have ridden every land known to Westeros, followed every clue and then _you_ were delivered to me by my oldest friend.” 

“Stannis…”

“You, Sansa Stark-Alayne Stone, you….”

“Stannis, please…” she stepped closer but he shook his head. 

“The moment I saw you in the foyer, I loved you” he admitted softly. “A governess with a spine of steel who made me look at the boys I had forgotten. You took my heart in your hands, brought it to life and you, Sansa Stark-Alayne Stone, own it still” he looked to her then and she felt tears on her cheeks. 

“I am so afraid” she whispered. 

“There is nothing to be afraid of,” he assured her, moving from the fire. “I have worked, day in and day out to unite the North, to plant the seeds that would take the Lannisters from the throne. I did not fight and watch my men die so that a product of incest could rule the realm. So that Eddard Stark could be murdered on the steps. The North falls apart more with each day and I sought to remedy that” he moved closer to her. “I just needed the key, I needed their princess” he cupped her cheek, his rough hands smoothing away her tears. “But you were here, hiding beneath my nose and making me love you more and more with each day…”

“Stannis” she sobbed, her body shaking as he moved closer. 

“You washed away the dye in your brows” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and searching her face. 

“I do not want the boys hurt” she replied. 

“I would never allow that to happen” he promised. 

“Promise me” she whispered, looking up into his stormy blue eyes. “They will come, the lions always come…”

“I promise,” he held her tighter. “I loved you as Alayne and I will love you, protect you no matter what your name is” he promised, his hand cupping her cheek. 

“My name” she swallowed a lump of emotion as she rallied her pride. “My name is Sansa Minisa Stark” she took his hand and placed it on the edge of the wrap around her hair. “Daughter to murdered parents Eddard and Catelyn Stark, sister to a murdered king, a missing princess and two murdered princes” she said proudly as he began to pull the fabric free. “Queen of the North and heiress to Winterfell” she met his eyes. “Trusted daughter to Lord and Lady Rainwood, Guardian of 7 Seaworth boys” the fabric loosened and she spoke “And a woman in love with you, Stannis Baratheon, first of his name, Duke of Dragonstone and rightful heir to the Iron Throne” she promised as the fabric came loose and her hair fell, unbound for the first time in nearly four years. 

He choked on his emotion as the fiery curls fell to her waist, unraveling and surrounding them both. He had never imagined that a curtain of fire hid beneath those ugly wraps, but here in his arms was his fiery Queen of the North. His fierce Queen who guarded her secret so closely to protect the boys she loved so much that she lived below her station just to stay alive. 

“Sansa” he whispered, running his hands through the riot of bright red curls that fell to her waist. “My beautiful Alyane.”

“Please” she pleaded softly, leaning her forehead against his. “You have to protect them.”

“Oh, my dearest love” he promised. “I mean to make you Queen.”

“Tywin will come” she whispered. “He promised me he would, and I have run every day since” she told him. 

“Tywin can try” he hauled her closer, savouring the feel of her in his embrace. “I will not let him take my love from me.”

“I love you” she whispered as her hands clung to his shoulders. 

“And I you” he promised. “Gods, I love you so much” he cupped her cheek, his fingers twining into her fiery curls. 

“Promise me we will kill them all,” she asked. “I would see the lion’s end.”

“We will end the Lannisters” he replied. “Promise you will be my wife, _my_ Alayne.”

“I will” she met his stormy blue gaze. “My Stannis” she said as he took her lips once more. She sighed against him, melting into his embrace and he kissed her with everything he had. Every promise. Every devotion. Every ounce of him poured into the kiss as he held her tight. 

Mine, he thought. She is mine.


	11. Part 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this! <3

_Nearly Four Years Ago Now  
King’s Landing - Small Council Chamber_

_After she was escorted into the room and left to stand beside the table, the Hand did not look up for several minutes. She stood, facing the wall beside him and waited, she would not give him the satisfaction of speaking first._

_His writing finished, he stood and looked to her, “They tell me you tried to run away, even got as far as the catacombs” when she made no move to speak, only held his gaze with defiance he continued. “You will not make any such attempts again, is that clear, Lady Sansa?”_

_She swallowed the _’fuck you’_ before saying, “As you say, Lord hand.”_

_“You will not embarrass the king or yourself with this defiant behavior” he instructed, moving closer to look down at her. “I promise you this, Lady Sansa, every time you run away, I will find you and I will bring you back. Run to Dorne, run to the wildlings, or run to Pentos, I will find you. And when I do, I will destroy anyone who has helped you and their families. I will reign down upon them until they pray for the Rains of Castamere” he voice was sharp as glass and crystal clear._

_“As you say, Lord Hand” she repeated once more._

_“Rest assured, Lady Sansa, the only reason Joffrey hasn’t had you raped yet is because your maidenhead belongs to me, ”he promised._

_She felt ill but kept her features schooled, “As you say, Lord Hand.”_

_“After the royal wedding, you and I will come to an accord” he drew himself up to his full height once more and stepped back. “For now, you’re dismissed” he shooed her away and she walked from the room with confidence she no longer felt. The Lannister guards escorted her to her chambers, closing the door as she surrendered her breakfast to the chamber pot._

He kissed her until they were both breathless, the quiet study filled with their gasps as they parted lips. He held her against him as she clung to his neck, “Come” he lifted her easily and carried her to his wingback chair before the fire. He sat and settled her across his lap. 

In the firelight her hair seemed to dance with the flames and he found that now that he had touched her curls that he could not stop. Even now as she curled against his chest he was running his hand through her hair. 

“Tell me” he asked softly. “All of it.” He wanted no more secrets between them, tonight everything would be addressed and then they could more forward. Together.

She was quiet for several minutes before her soft voice began, “I left Winterfell with my father and Arya, a girl of ten and four who vainly hoped to be a queen. But it was a nightmare instead. I watched as they killed my father on the steps and then turned their sights to me. Arya, we kept her hidden, tucked away and they thought she had escaped during the execution” she paused and he felt her take a deep breath. “The first time Joffrey had me beaten, I begged him to stop. I begged for help. The second time I asked for no such mercies. I bore it as much as I could, I told him what he wanted to hear and I survived. More importantly Arya was safe.”

“You said ‘we’ kept her hidden” he asked. “Who helped you?”

“Sandor Clegane, the Hound” she said. “He was the only kindness in that city, the only safety. I trusted him and when things grew worse, we tried to run” she wiped a tear from her cheek and continued. “But there were guards everywhere. They did not know about Arya so I bid Sandor take her away, somewhere safe and far away and I let the guards find me. The beatings only grew worse from there. Fists and floggers turned to barbed whips and him telling his guards to rape me, only to stop them right before…” she took several long deep breaths as he ran his hand through her hair to soothe her. “At the riots during the royal wedding, I saw my chance and I ran. I ran like I have never run before. It was hopeless and I made my choice. I jumped from the wall into the sea. I remember the pain of drowning like it was yesterday…”

“Your nightmare” he suddenly understood. “You were clutching your throat.” 

“I promised myself that if I could not escape, I would die” she looked up at him. “And I did die that day. But then suddenly there was Davos, breathing life into a corpse and giving her a new name, a new home.”

“He knew who you were,” he commented. 

“From the very first meeting, but he helped me anyway” she smiled. “He promised to keep me safe, even if something should happen to him, by sending me and the boys to you.”

“He knew I was searching for the Stark daughters” Stannis explained. “He put your safety above my determination and I cannot fault him for that.”

“He knew that if Lord Tywin Lannister were to find me with him then everything would be lost, but he made me a part of his family anyway.”

“Tell me of Lord Tywin” he prompted. 

“I only spoke with him a handful of times” she replied. “He knew that without me alive then the North would be lost. I think ...I think he meant to marry me.”

He growled at that, holding her tighter, “He still has men searching for you, from what I have learned.”

“He told me after the royal wedding we would reach an accord, that my maidenhead belonged to him” she added. 

“He is losing his hold in the North” Stannis spoke. “Has been for sometime. He let the Boltons take Winterfell, and it has alienated them from the other bannermen. I have spoken with House Glover, Umber, Karstark, Mormont, Manderly and Reed, they have spoken to a few others and they knew of my search for you and your sister. They gave word that if I could find you, they would stand with us” he took a deep breath and continued. “Lord Bolton claims he has Lady Arya and has married her to his bastard son Ramsay, but an elder daughter would upend her claim.”

She gasped, “Do you think...is it her?”

He shook his head, “No, I do not. But only you would be able to tell.”

She nodded, “If needed, we can send word to Riverrun and the Vale, they are family and will support us.”

He couldn’t help but smile down at her, “A warrior princess already.”

“He will come, Stannis” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “And I have killed myself to avoid him once already, I will die before I let him hurt you or the boys” her promise hung heavy in the air. 

“It will not come to that” he assured her. “The Baratheon armies will stand with you and the North.”

“And if I said that I did not want to press my claim?” she asked. “If I asked to stay here, hidden forever?”

He sighed, staring into the flames for a long moment, “I would be disappointed, but I would marry _Alayne Stone_ and we would stay hidden. If that is truly what you wanted” he looked back to her to find her watching him closely. 

Her hand raised to stroke his bearded cheek and he leaned into her touch, “My proud flaming stag” she smiled. 

His hand covered hers on his cheek, her skin smooth beneath his own, “I mean to marry you as soon as you’ll have me.”

“Before we marry and take back our thrones” she smiled. “We have to tell the children.”

“Ah, right.”

“But for now” she guided his lips back to hers and they lost themselves in a kiss once more. 

The following morning she woke with the small body of Little Stannis tucked against her, this time to find the boy playing with her hair. 

“Red” he commented, smiling up at her. 

“Indeed it is” she kissed his forehead. While she was still concerned for the boys, her talk with Stannis had not only helped her find perspective but ensured her that she had an aly in the Duke himself. Tywin would come for her the moment he learned she was alive, so they would need to be prepared. 

And prepared they would be, Stannis had worked hard to ensure that. Today he would send the necessary ravens and soon they would sail north to White Harbor and call the Stark bannermen to her. Dragonstone was no more Stannis’ home than it was hers, and its proximity to King’s Landing was too close for comfort, so North they would go. 

_”There is a Godswood in White Harbor”_ she had reminded Stannis. _We could wed there, in the eyes of the Old Gods_. He had smiled, admitting that he had hoped to marry her sooner than that. She felt the same way, parting from him last night had been hard, his kisses were heaven. 

Rising for the day, she crossed to her trunks and dug out her brush, taming her now-hip length hair before styling it in the Northern way. Looking into the mirror she saw a reflection that she had not seen before. Hair free, cheeks flushed and lips swollen she looked like a woman well-loved. Smiling, she looked away. Pulling on a deep grey dress she tied her belt at her wait before seeing to Steffon. 

“We will need to move quickly, Cressen” the Duke instructed his valet as he worked to finish tying the cravat. “We will likely sail North in a sennight.” 

“Of course, your grace” Cressen paused. “If I may, why go North?”

“I have found Lady Sansa Stark” Stannis paused. “Or rather, she had found me and I will finally be able to settle the North before focusing on the Lannisters.”

Cressen nodded, though still confused, but did not question the Duke. Cressen was aware of how hard he had been searching the realm for his key to the North, and was glad he had finally found it. 

Cravat finished, he stepped away and the Duke gave a nod, “Let’s not keep the boys waiting” he marched away and Cressen could only follow. 

He had been shocked the first time the Duke broke his fast with the boys and Miss. Stone, and just as shocked every time he joined them after. Everyone had noticed the marked changes in the fearsome Duke, all of them because of the new additions to the island. Essie had even sworn she saw the Duke smile last week.

He could tell right from the start that Miss. Stone would be good for the Duke, could perhaps thaw the ice around the man’s heart and bring some happiness to the island. She and the boys had worked their way into his heart, and it was obvious for all to see. Idly he wondered if having Lady Stark now in the picture would complicate things. 

Pushing the thought aside he followed behind the Duke as he made his way to the small dining room. From the sound he knew that the boys were already eating their oats, happily chattering away. He had once resigned himself to never hearing laughter in this house but now it seemed to be filled with it. 

The Duke entered the small dining room but Cressen’s feet froze at the doorway, watching as the imposing man moved to the opposite end of the table to greet…Gods…She was beautiful, they all knew as much, but today her head wrap was gone and thick curls the color of fire hung down to the small of her back. 

“Lady Stark” the Duke kissed her softly as she stood to greet him, Steffon on her hip as always. 

“Lord Baratheon” she smiled at him, seeming to glow with happiness. 

_Lady Stark_ the Duke had called her. He had searched the kingdom for years and she was delivered to him, hair wrapped and station hidden. 

“Red!” Little Stannis exclaimed. 

“Indeed” the Duke smoothed the boys curls. 

“Alayne said we had to wait for you to tell us a story” Matthos began. “So will you tell us!”

“I shall” the Duke briefly kissed Miss. Stone once more before moving to his own chair. “This story starts with an evil king and lost princess” the Duke began and Cressen listened from the doorway as the Duke wove the tale of Lady Sansa Stark.


	12. Part 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me throwing canon out the window, don't @ me...

_Nearly Four Years Ago Now  
King’s Landing - The Small Council Chamber_

_“And what of the Lady Sansa?” Tyrion asked his father, having relayed all he witnessed in the Great Hall the previous year. “You cannot keep her here, Joffrey eventually will kill her.”_

_“I do not intend to leave her here” Tywin raised his gaze from his papers to meet his and Tyrion felt a chill race down his spine as the cold emerald of his father’s eyes fixed on him. “Joffrey will wed Lady Margaery in two days time. His energy will them be focused on doing his duty to the crown and putting heirs in her as quickly as possible. The Tyrells will stay close at hand, we will need to watch them. I wouldn’t put it past Lady Olenna to sneak her granddaughter moon tea” Tywin stated. “A moon’s turn after their wedding, I will wed Lady Sansa Stark.”_

_“Father---”_

_Tywin cut him off, his eyes hard, “I will wed her and I will bed her until a son comes from her body, then I will send her and the boy North with the Lannister army. The North will be brought to heel.”_

_“If you think that the Northern houses will pledge to a Lannister son after what you did to Robb Stark--”_

_“A Stark son” Tywin interrupted. “They will follow her son because she is a trueborn Stark.”_

_“And what of her?” Tyrion frowned._

_“If she will not obey, I will teach her obedience” Tywin stated plainly. “Joffrey has already proven that abuse does not break her, I will have to try other means.”_

_“And if she bears a daughter?”_

_“I will continue to bed her until she bears a son, Tyrion” Tywin glared at him. “Bedding her should not be difficult, she is a comely girl.”_

_Tyrion looked at his father then, truly looked, and he saw that his father _wanted_ Lady Sansa, lusted for her and nothing would prevent the Great Lion from having her. _

How do you move an entire army without alerting your enemies? Well if you were Stannis Baratheon the answer is simple; Ships. They sailed for White Harbor with scores of ships holding thousands of men. These thousands would meet the Manderly forces in White Harbor and then they would march along the White Knife until they joined with the Umbers, Mormonts, Karstarks and Cerwyn’s at Castle Cerwyn. By the time they arrived at Castle Cerwyn, their number would have quadrupled, outnumbering the Bolton men nearly 15 to 1. 

This would not include those coming from Bear Island and Deepwood Motte that would march through the Wolfswood to set up at the North of Winterfell. Bolton would soon be surrounded, and while a siege was not ideal, it would work. 

Once the North was united, they would send word to House Tully in the Riverlands, House Arryn in the Vale and to his brother, Renly in the Stormlands. With those kingdoms united against the cruel Lannister rule, they would be able to take the Throne. Sansa had even suggested she they reach out to Oberyn Martell, who she met during her time in King’s Landing to bring Dorne into the fold. 

Lord Arryn and Lord Stark both knew the King and his siblings to be products of incest, children of Ser Jaime Lannister and not Robert Baratheon. Word of this was slowly spreading throughout the realm thanks to hundreds upon hundreds of little birdies. As Robert died with no heir, Stannis, the forgotten Duke of Dragonstone was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. He would do his duty and he would take it back from the usurpers. He already had his Queen, and together they would unite the seven under Baratheon-Stark rule.

As he predicted, things had progressed quickly as soon as the Stark bannermen had learned Stannis had fulfilled his promised, that he had found their Queen of the North. News broken, she had written them herself, all of their messages including a memory that only Sansa Stark would know, and ending with a promise that the North would be united once more. Her last raven was sent to Castle Black, to Lord Commander Jon Snow.

He had arranged for a trunk of clothing befitting the Queen in the North to be ready when they sailed, though she wore plain clothes on the ship as she cared for the boys. The seas grew rougher as they grew colder, but the Seaworth boys were hearty stock with their father’s love of the ocean and they bore the trip well. Cressen and Essie travelled with them, helping as needed though it was mostly wrangling the boys.

The first time he saw her dressed as Lady Sansa Stark, she had stolen the breath from his body. As White Harbor grew larger on their horizon, she ducked below deck to change out of her plain dress. When she emerged, he could not breathe. Her tall, slender frame was encased in a modest fitted deep grey dress with long sleeves. A thick black cloak with fur along the shoulders kept her warm and now her hair styled in the Northern way looked like a shock of fire as it hung over her shoulders and back. She looked every inch Lady Stark, a proud Northern Queen. His Northern Queen. 

“You are beautiful” he took her hands in his. They both wore leather gloves to ward off the cold. “Lady Stark.”

“Thank you, Stannis” she smiled, then squeezed his hands briefly. “I am afraid.”

He guided her close to kiss her forehead, “There is no need to be afraid, you are safe.”

“I will feel better when we are wed” she admitted. “Then I cannot be taken as easily.” He nodded, understanding her thought process. She had admitted that she did not want Tywin to take her, any part of her that she wished to give to Stannis only. “And if the bannermen protest because you are Southron” she sighed. “We will just have to be house Baratheon-Stark, a new House.”

Stannis laughed, “Are you ready?” he asked as the ship moved into port. 

“Yes” she nodded. 

“Tell me, Lady Stark” Lord Manderly asked later that evening before the evening meal. He had welcome them at the docks and personally escorted them to his home. He had raised an eyebrow at the 7 boys that stuck close to the Queen of Winter but did not ask about them. Not until now. “Tell me how you escaped the bastard king and are now here in my great hall with 7 children and Lord Stannis Baratheon.”

She smiled, glancing to the boys who were playing by the fire, Steffon watching her from Essie’s arms. “I jumped from the wall into the Blackwater bay” she began. “I saw a chance and I took it. I jumped. I intended to die, but Lord Rainwood--Davos Seaworth found me and hid me with his family. Not only was he the hero of Storm’s End, but my hero as well. I lived beside them and upon the event of their death, took their sons to their new guardian on Dragonstone.”

Manderly laughed as he looked to Stannis, “Search the realms for her and she shows up on your doorstep, Baratheon.”

“Only I did not know her, not right away” Stannis stated. “She went to great lengths to hide her identity from me” he paused and steeled himself. “I would have you hear it from me that I intend to marry Lady Stark, Lord Manderly. I have asked and she has agreed. If you lend us the use of your Godswood, we would be honored to wed here.”

“It may cause some tension” Manderly replied honestly. “Though we here in the North know how hard you’ve been working to return our Queen to us. You have done more for the North than the Lannisters have, that is certain.”

“I mean to take their Throne” Stannis continued and Lord Manderly raised his brows in surprise. 

“I had heard rumors of King Joffrey’s...parentage.”

“Lord Arryn wrote to Lord Stark about it, Lord Stark confirmed it and before he died wrote to me of it” Stannis explained. “All three children are Lannisters by birth and Lannisters only. Robert died without an heir. I mean to take the Iron Throne.”

“And rule the North?” Manderly asked.

“The North will be my Queen’s to rule” Stannis stated, looking to Sansa. “Her people have waited long enough for her, I would not presume to rule them. We will unite under a Baratheon-Stark banner, as we did during the rebellion. Our first son will be heir to the Iron Throne, our second heir to the North.”

His answer seemed to satisfy Manderly, who gave a nod, “There should always be a Stark in Winterfell, and I will help you put her there. If my Queen then decides to help you take your throne, I will follow her.”

“With the North, Vale, Stormlands and Dorne together, we will take it, Lord Manderly” Sansa assured him. “This time of war is almost over, we will soon have our peace.”

“A little peace would be nice on my old bones” Manderly laughed.

Stannis held her hand tightly as they stood before the Godswood, Lord Manderly and Cressen beside them, Essie and the children watching on. 

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Lord Manderly asked. 

“Sansa, of the House Stark, comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?” Sansa spoke for herself, a woman forged in the fires of King’s Landing and the trials she’d experienced. 

"Stannis, of House Baratheon, heir to Dragonstone and the Iron Throne," his voice was confident, eyes sparkling with happiness as he squeezed her hands. 

“Lady Stark, do you take this man?” Manderly asked. 

“I take this man” she smiled brightly at him, hardly able to believe that this strong, incredible man was going to be her husband. They had both experiences the horrors of war, survived and become stronger than they could have imagined. And now, as they faced the coming war, they would do so together. A combined force like the known world has ever seen, they would take back what was stolen from them and restore peace and justice to the world. 

The next moment they were wed and her husband was pulling her into his arms, kissing her softly in front of the small gathering of guests. 

“I love you” she smiled up at him, “Husband.”

“I love you, wife” he replied, hugging her tightly before they separated to celebrate with the boys.

“Come, let us feast and celebrate” Manderly smiled, ushering everyone back inside. 

Sansa and Stannis walked slowly, arm in arm, both nervously anticipating the night ahead and the war that awaited beyond.


	13. Part 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that E rating I promised you.....finally

At long last, it was just them. Husband and wife together, alone. 

He had watched as she settled the boys into bed across the hall, snuggled together in the room Lord Manderly had given them. He had watched as she tucked them in, kissing their foreheads and singing softly until they were asleep. His strong, incredible wife was a born mother and loved those boys with all of her heart. He was honored to hold a place beside them. 

He marvelled now as she cast aside her cloak, unpinned her hair until it fell in silky waves around her, as she untied her gown, letting the grey silk fall away, leaving her only in her shift. 

“Stannis” she said softly, crossing to him.

“You’re a goddess” he whispered, touching the shoulder bared by her loose shift. He could see the trail of scars across her porcelain flesh and it made his heart ache. 

“Let me help you” her small hands pushed his jacket from his shoulders, laying it across the chair before moving back to his cravat. She untied the fabric and pulled it away before moving to his waistcoat. “Stannis?” she asked, noticing he was frozen. 

“Forgive me, I am” he swallowed. “I am not a man well versed in...this.”

“It is okay to be nervous,” she assured him, moving closer. He could see through the material of her shift in the candlelight, the curve of her breasts, the swell of her hips and she was driving him mad. “I am afraid too, I do not wish to disappoint you.”

“My Sansa” he cupped her cheek, her smooth skin warm against his calloused hands. “I could never be disappointed in you. It is I who do not wish to disappoint, or hurt you.”

“I have endured pain,” she whispered. “I have survived so much pain and I know that you could never hurt me” she slowly unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Just love me, that is all I ask of you.”

“I do” he promised as his waistcoat joined his jacket and he was left just in shirt sleeves and breeches. 

“Then kiss me” she smiled and he obeyed, lowering his lips to hers. Her lips parted, allowing him entrance to her mouth and soon they were devouring each other, his hands clutching her to him as she pulled at his shirt to slide her hands across the warm flesh of his abdomen and back. 

He groaned against her lips, her touch lighting a fire across his skin as she touched him. His own hands went to the ties at the front of her shift, pulling them loose to let the material fall away. She was all creamy skin and sinful curves, calling to him. He pulled back to look upon her fully, running his hands down her shoulders to her stomach and hips. 

“You are beautiful” he whispered and she frowned slightly. “What is wrong?”

“My scars” she said, barely audible. “They are...ugly....”

“May I?” he asked, and she nodded, pulling the heavy mass of her hair aside before turning her back to him. It _was_ bad, his heart nearly broke. From her neck to the backs of her knees she bore horrible scarring that spoke of years of torture. Knives, lashes, barbs, all of them had torn her flesh apart. Even the curve of her buttocks was scarred. “Oh my love” he whispered, running his fingers down the ridges flesh. “You are still beautiful,” he promised. “This, this is not you, but speaks of the strong heart you are.”

She turned back to face him, “I do not look at it” she admitted. “I cannot.” 

“You do not have to” he assured her. “But know it does not change my love for you.”

“I love you” she told him, her hands moving to his shirt. “You have seen me, husband. Now it is my turn” she pulled the fabric over his head and tossed it away, hands smoothing over the course hairs on his lean torso, lingering over his sternum before travelling to the ties of his breeches. 

She worked his breeches free, pushing them down lean hips but before she could glimpse him he lifted her, carrying her to the large bed as he stepped away from his clothes. He lowered her to the furs across the best, taking her lips once more. 

Her small hands clung to him, holding him close even as her legs instinctually wrapped around him, “Gods” he muttered, running his hands over as much of her as he could, revealing in the silk of her flesh. 

He had lived in solitude so long, away from the world and human touch that he had assumed he would always live that way. Now, in a life filled with laughter and hope, her loving caress nearly unmanned him. He had been alone for so long he nearly forgot what the touch of love felt like. 

Propping himself on an elbow, his other hand trailed across the full curve of her breast, barely caressing the jeweled peak, down her stomach until he found her folds. He was as gentle as possible, his clumsy fingers parting her to seek that bundle he had only heard bawdy tales about. She was wet, hot to the touch and he knew the second he found it. She broke their kiss, crying softly into the room as her head lolled back into the furs. 

He teased her, stroked her as he rained kisses across her bare skin. Her hands tunneled into his short hair, holding him as an anchor as he pushed her toward her peak. 

“Stannis” she gasped, eyes wide as she tried to catch her breath. 

“Let it take you, love” he whispered as his fingers circled her most sensitive place. He watched as it crested, her peak taking her as she bowed beneath him, mouth open in a silent cry as her fingernails dug into his scalp. She cried out as she curled against him, his fingers slowly bringing her down, a flush spreading across her that made him feel more a man than he had in years. 

“Stannis” she sighed, kissing him with abandon. 

She was soaked now, ready for him and he shifted, bringing the head of him to her channel, “I am sorry” he broke their kiss long enough to whisper the words before she was kissing him again. He aligned himself and began to push inside. She tensed at the intrusion, but he whispered words of assurance, of love as he moved forward. He felt her maiden’s gift give way and then he slid easily inside, her heated core taking him deeply as she cried out in pain. “I’m sorry” he repeated. 

“No” she panted. “Do not be sorry” she met his gaze. “I love you and now I am yours as you are mine. Always.”

“Always” he promised. 

Sansa did her best to breathe as he began to rock within her. The initial pain had subsided but she was not yet used to feeling so full, so stretched. She had not been able to gaze upon him but the small glimpse she had told her that the only reason she wasn’t in more pain was because he was being incredibly gentle. Her Duke was a tall man, large and doing everything he could not to tear her apart. 

He had not frowned in disgust at her scars, at the ruin that had become her body as Joffrey’s hands, he loved her regardless. He made her feel beautiful, loved. Things she had not felt in a very long time, but mostly she felt _home_ in his arms. 

“Ready?” his voice was deep and soft. 

“Yes” she took several breaths as he moved his hips, away and then back, his body sinking into hers. She did her best to relax and soon the pain faded and she could feel the nerves of her body firing as he made love to her. She watched the dark midnight of his eyes, the tense of his brow and felt the way his hands carded into her hair to hold her tighter. She would live through a thousand pains just to watch her Duke as he worshipped her, loved her. 

She felt him tremble, his hand suddenly gripping the curve of her buttocks as he moved harder, faster, chasing his own peak. His eyes beheld awe and desperation she had never seen before, wild as he never allowed himself to be. She drank in every detail of his lean form, savored ever soft groan and startled cry as he loved her, his body surrendering to the ancient dance. Watching this man come apart just for her was more than anything she had experienced.

“My love” she smoothed the crease of his brow with her fingers. “Let it take you” she whispered. 

He moved faster then, deeper as his hips faltered, “Sansa” he whispered as he kissed her, his soft gasp muffled by their kiss as he slid home and let his peak take him. She felt him come, kissed him deeply as his body trembled against her, filled her. “Gods” he panted against her mouth. 

“My king” she smiled. 

“My queen” he rested his forehead against hers briefly before moving away. She winced as his body came free of hers, his seed following in an odd feeling she couldn’t describe. He moved away but before she could protest he was bag with a towel, carefully cleaning her core. She saw the shock of blood on the rag as he tossed it away and she smiled. It was done, he was her husband. Hers. 

“My shift” she said softly. “In case Little Stannis joins us in the night.”

He gave a small smile and held the fabric so she could slip into it once more. Pulling on his small clothes, he then blew out the candle and returned to bed, helping her beneath the furs before pulling her into his embrace. 

“I love you” she kissed his chin and lips. 

“And I you” he promised. 

Stannis woke at dawn to a very strange sensation of being surrounded. Opening his eyes he was met with a wall of red curls, Sansa, he smiled to himself. His Lady wife, his queen slept curled in the spoon of his body, back to front. As he shifted, however, he noticed that there was another small body curled to hers, Steffon, Gods. His little body had escaped from Essie and now slept soundly against Sansa. And Little Stannis, but not just Little Stannis, Devon too had joined his brothers, sleeping across the foot of the bed. It was lucky the four elder boys did not try to join them. 

Stannis couldn’t help but smile, damn you Davos, he thought with amusement. But as soon as the words passed his mind, he couldn’t help but thank his oldest friend. He had sent him Alayne Stone, a fiery, beautiful woman who had changed everything. Sansa Stark or no he loved her all the same. 

Even if that meant waking up on the first day as husband and wife with 3 Seaworth children in their bed. 

“Oh” Sansa soft laugh met his ears as he wife woke. 

“We’re surrounded” he whispered, admiring how beautiful she looked in the morning light.

“They must have been afraid in their room,” she replied. 

“Perhaps” he kissed her shoulder. “Are you well?” he asked. 

“Yes” she assured him. “I am beyond happy to finally be your wife.”

“Whatever happens now, we’re in this together” he promised. 

“Together.”


	14. Part 14

They stayed a sennight in White Harbor before they moved inland to Castle Cerwyn. Sansa watched her husband as he mounted the large black stallion, the finery of a Duke gone and replaced with a thick leather jacket and a black cloak to combat the cold of the North. He cut a fine figure on the stallion, tall, sharp and intimidating as he barked instructions to commanders and cavalry men. 

She felt her cheeks flush as she admired him, saw that while this commander was in control of all around him, she was the one who saw the man behind it. The man who would come apart at her touch, as she did his; the man who worshipped her body in the quiet of their bed chamber. Though she had not known the intricacies of the marriage bed, she felt as if she had waited forever for her husbands touch, beneath it her body came to life. 

For this stretch of the journey along the White Knife she would ride in the wagon with the boys and Essie, keeping them warm and entertained as they traveled. Once at Castle Cerwyn she would remain with the boys while the Bolton’s were dealt with and when ready, she would take the boys to the first home she had known. Winterfell. 

The journey did not take long, though damned cold, Stannis kept his eyes vigilant as he rode across the tundra. He had sailed to war, ridden to war, but never with a wife and children in tow and he was hyper-aware of their surroundings at all times. Behind him as far as the eye could see were Northmen, horses and artillery. They had more than enough men to take on the small force at Winterfell and from there they would make their next move. 

He would assume that shortly Tywin Lannister would receive rumors of the forces in the North, and as soon as he reached Winterfell Stannis would be writing the man directly. The time for games was over and the realm had suffered enough. 

The stone of the castle came into view and he saw the welcoming banners riding to meet them, Lord Cley Cerwyn at the front. 

“Your Grace” Cerwyn greeted. “Welcome.”

“Thank you, Lord Cerwyn” Stannis replied, the two men shaking hands from their mounts. 

“When you said you had the men you certainly did not lie” Cerwyn laughed as he took in the soldiers. 

“I mean to unite the North, Lord Cerwyn” Stannis stated plainly. “I promised you your Queen and the means to place her on her throne.”

Stannis saw Cerwyn’s eyes roam the men behind him then fixate on someone behind him and Stannis knew without turning that Sansa had emerged from the wagon. Her fiery hair would be a beacon in the winter’s drab colors. 

“By the Old Gods, you did” Cerwyn spoke. “She is the image of her, there is no mistaking she is Catelyn Stark’s blood.” Stannis knew that given that Castle Cerwyn was only a half-day’s ride from Winterfell that they had been close to the Stark family, so the man’s easy recognition of Sansa did not surprise him.

“Lord Cerwyn” Sansa’s elegant voice joined them. She came to stand beside Stannis’ mount, her soft hand resting on Stannis’ thigh, an intimate gesture that did not go unnoticed by the liege lord. 

“Your Grace” Cerwyn bowed his head. “It is lovely to see you back in the North.”

“It is lovely to be back home” she smiled. “May I offer condolences for your father, Lord Medger was a good man.”

“Thank you, your grace” Cerwyn gave a soft smile. “Now come, have the men set up camp along these foothills and let us discuss the next step” he looked from Sansa to Stannis and the men shared a nod before getting to work. 

Stannis stood with Cerwyn, Manderly, Lady Lyanna Mormont, Greatjon Umber and Richard Karstark in the great hall, all of them pouring over the map in last minute preparation. They were ready to move the following day to rid the North of the Bolton traitors for good. 

“Then what, Baratheon?” Greatjon’s deep voice rumbled. While the man was just as tall as Stannis’ own great height he was twice as wide. “We’ve all heard the news of the Lannister’s bastard king in King’s Landing.”

Stannis nodded, “Both Lord Arryn and Lord Stark confirmed that the king is no Baratheon. Cersei Lannister and her brother, Ser Jaime, made those children and they are no blood of mine.”

“That would make you Robert’s heir” Karstark noted plainly as if it weren’t the elephant in the room. 

“It would” Stannis agreed. 

“Then why take your men North” Lyanna Mormont’s sharp eyes were on him. Though she was young she had a strong military mind and a fierce loyalty to the Starks. 

“Because I made a promise” Stannis replied. “I gave you my word that I would find Lady Sansa Stark and unite the North.”

“A man who marched his army away from his own crown to fulfill his word” Manderly nodded in approval.

“A man who breaks his word is no man” Stannis replied. 

“And yet she is Lady Baratheon now” Lyanna spoke plainly. 

Stannis nodded, “She is, but I will not rule the North. A Stark must always be in Winterfell, and so our second son will hold the name Stark and rule the North as an independent kingdom.”

“You mean to unite the North and emancipate it from the remaining kingdoms” Karstark replied. “Kingdoms you mean to take?”

“I do” Stannis explained. “The North belongs to the Starks and their bannermen. Southron kings have no need to rule here.”

Lady Mormont watched him closely for several seconds before nodding, ‘We know only one king whose name is Stark.”

“And you will have it” Stannis assured her. “This time tomorrow, you will have it.”

“They’re finally asleep” his wife smiled as she entered their chambers later that evening. Though they were smaller than they room they had in White Harbor, the bed was large and covered with plush furs that would help them stay warm tonight. 

He did not speak, merely pulled her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers. He intended to savour his wife this night, because he knew come morning at least one Seaworth will have snuck in and soon after he would have to ride away from her to take back Winterfell. 

Clothing fell away in a flurry of hands and soft sighs and when the warmth of her bare flesh met his he groaned in pleasure. Lifting her, he carried her to the bed and laid her on the furs, trailing kisses across her shoulder and down to her breasts. 

“Stannis” she gasped as he pulled a nipple into the warmth of his mouth, suckling deeply until she writhed beneath him. 

He released her, admiring the pink jeweled tip of her breast before she was guiding him to her lips. He kissed her deeply, their mouths a desperate tangle. His spirited wife, who had never backed down from his temper in the months she worked at Dragonstone, now was a woman who knew how to take pleasure of her husband and made no secret of what she wanted.

He was a man who did not have much experience in the bedroom but he knew his wife’s adore was genuine, as he felt the same. They had both waited a long time to find each other and he wasn’t about to let her go. From her touch he knew she felt the same way.

Her slender hand closed around him, guiding him to where she wanted him most. Her soft pleas urged him forward, his length sinking into her as she sighed in contentment. 

“Gods” he groaned against the corner of her mouth. Never had he felt anything close to the way it felt to be buried in his wife’s welcoming heat. There was nothing like it, he was certain, to be so deeply joined with one you loved that you seemed to share one breath, one heartbeat. 

“Stannis” she urged him, her hands trailing over his back to clutch his shoulders as he began to move. Her lips were on his face, neck and shoulders as he loved her, her hips rising to meet his own, to take him as deep as possible. The room was filled with their pants and gasps, no words spoken, the desperation between them spoke enough. Tomorrow he would leave for a battle that, while their numbers were greater, it still held risks. He would mark her, imprint his being upon her in some way as hers was imprinted on his and it would hold them over until he saw her again. 

Reaching between their bodies he found that bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and circled it as he thrust, sending her cries higher. 

“Pleaseplease” her breath hot against his shoulder as she begged. He felt her body being shake harder, “Please, come with me” she choked out as her body reached its peak, milking him until he followed, filling her with a muffled growl. “I love you” she held him tightly as they caught their breath. 

“I love you” he promised. 

The following morning found them in Cerwyn’s great hall, the boys beside the fire as Sansa stood with her husband. She was nervous, afraid but kept her spine straight and shoulders squared as he pulled on his gloves. 

“Ready?” he asked her softly. 

“I love you” she kissed him softly, uncaring that others could see them. She pulled a gold ribbon from her pocket and wrapped it around his sword arm’s wrist, tying it snug. “Swing true, and may the Old Gods watch over you,” she whispered, covering the favor with his sleeve and glove. 

“I love you, my Queen” he kissed her forehead and then they were walking side by side to the door. Outside was bright and clear, the snow holding off in blessing of their attack. Commanders and cavalry men milled about, all of them looking to her as she walked beside Stannis. Manderly, Umber, Karstark and Cerwyn watched them both, all ready to ride into battle. While he was their leader, she was their Queen, their Stark. 

“Friends” she addressed them with a smile, though inside she was shaking. “Today we take back not just Winterfell, but our homes. Our kingdom. We will show the lions that they and their allies have no place in the cold snows of the North. We will show traitors what happens when you betray your home and your people. The North remembers, my brothers, and it bears no quarter for traitors blood” she continued, her voice strong. “The Old Gods ride with you this day, and all your days. For the North!”

“For the North” the men echoed, raising their arms in salute. 

“Come back to me” she whispered to Stannis.

“Always” he pulled her in for a brief, fierce kiss as the men around them cheered their battle cries. As suddenly as the kiss began, it ended, him moving back, smoothly mounting his black stallion to smile down at her. “For the North my Queen.”


	15. Part 15

Stannis stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, the ground a mix of snow, mud and blood as the eerie quiet after the storm settled in. The Bolton's had tried to brace for a siege, but with Sansa’s intricate knowledge of her home, the Northern army used artillery to blow apart the thinnest wall and flood the keep with men. The Bolton men had been run down, all of them dead including the Lord and bastard boy themselves. For them he had swung the sword himself, Lightbringer serving justice to the Lannister dogs. 

The Glovers and their men had moved in from the North as the rest spilled in from the south and within a few short hours, it was done. Winterfell itself has sustained only the damage needed to gain entry, and repairs would begin on the morrow. And while he had suffered some losses, his main had run through the Bolton men like flame through ice, ruthless and efficient.

The gates, now wide open, were busy with soldiers coming in and out, cleaning up the carnage and bringing in supplies before the Queen arrived. Stannis had cut the Bolton banners down himself, watching the mud soak into the pink flayed man with satisfaction. Cast to the earth, House Bolton was gone. 

Once that was done he sent Lady Mormont back to Cerwyn’s with a vanguard to escort Queen Sansa home. Women in the North were not like women in the South, they were fighters, sharp and made of the strongest steel. His wife’s fortitude alone was a testament to the metal. He would not go for her himself, no, that was for the woman of the North. 

_“Women of the North will bring the new era of peace, Lady Mormont, I believe you should be the one to bring her home” Stannis told her and with a faint smile and a nod, the girl turned her mount and began shouting orders._

“Your grace” Umber lumbered beside him. “We’ve finished searching inside, every Bolton man is gone. We found Lady Bolton in the great hall, dead.”

“Is it Lady Arya?” Stannis asked, afraid of the answer. 

“Not unless Arya put on ten stones and grew twice as tall” Greatjon shook his head. “Arya had Ned’s face, this is not Arya.”

“Set her aside, just to be sure. We will bury her later” Stannis frowned, turning to the large man as young Lord Galbart Glover approached. Snow had begun to fall in large flakes, dancing around them all as if the North itself were celebrating the return of its Queen. “Lord Glover, you have my thanks” Stannis shook his hand. 

“Baratheon” the man nodded. “You fulfilled your word, the North is whole and has a Stark once more.”

“And there she is” Stannis looked as Greatjon spoke and there in the gates, atop a large bay stallion was his Queen. She was a beautiful sight, fiery hair dancing in the breeze of sunset and her gown of dove grey beneath her cloak. Lady Mormont rode beside her, both sitting tall as the women of the North reclaimed their land. 

“Gods” Glover stared at the Queen and Stannis grit his teeth. Perhaps Glover had not yet heard that he had taken Sansa Stark to wife, if he had he might have concealed his awe. Or at least tried to.

As Sansa reached them Stannis saw Glover take a step forward, only to have Greatjon’s hand on his shoulder stop him. Stannis gave the large man a nod before he moved to help her from her horse. He lifted her easily, setting her in the snow beside him, hands lingering at her hips. 

“Winterfell is yours, your grace” he told her.

“And the cost?” she asked softly. “You are well?”

“I am well, your grace” he smiled. “Our losses were small, our men easily won the day.”

“The Old Gods have blessed us this day” she cupped his cheek, either ignoring or uncaring for propriety at her bold gesture and show of affection. “My love, thank you” she turned to see Greatjon and Glover, “Thank you, all of you. Tonight we celebrate. For the North!”

“For the North” echoed around them as the men cheered once more. 

“Sansa” he spoke softly as he found her standing in the doorway of the master's chambers in Winterfell. He was surprised at how warm the keep was, the heating pipes from the hot spring a stark contrast to the snow falling outside. Downstairs and outside the men were still celebrating, every Northman proud that the North was whole once more. 

“The last time I was here,” she said softly, holding a sleeping Steffon in her arms. “My mother and father were asleep in that bed. And now they’re all gone and it's just me…”

He wrapped his arms around her and Steffon, “I am sorry, my love.”

“Umber, he told me that it isn’t Arya that Bolton had” Sansa said. “Which means that she could be out there, with Sandor. Alive.”

“It is possible” he frowned. “I heard reports of his death but was never able to corroborate.”

“Perhaps now they will come home” she hoped. “If they heard we have taken it back and…”

“She will come” he kissed her forehead. “For now, let us put Steffon to bed. I would like to make love to the Queen of the North this night.”

“I would like that” she smiled shyly taking Steffon across the hall to Essie. He had ordered all the bedding and mattresses changed, so while the frame belonged to her parents, this bed would be only theirs from this night on. 

Stannis sat on the chair beside the fire and removed his boots, stretching them out as he took a deep breath. Today they had easily taken the North and now his mind turned to the Southron War that awaited them. If he did not think Tywin would be coming for them, he would be content to stay in Winterfell, to live as his Queen’s consort and give her as many children as she wanted. But Tywin would come. He would come for her, and for her kingdom and he would not sit by and allow that to happen. 

“Husband, I have called for a warm bath for us, it will help relax you and we can enjoy it together,” she said as she knelt before him in the v of his legs. “My warrior King” she smiled. 

“You should not kneel, you are the Queen---”

“And you my King” she cut him off as he cupped her cheeks. “You are my husband, my love, and soon the father of my children. You are my equal, my partner in all things.”

“I never thought I would find you” he whispered. “Not ‘Sansa Stark’, but the woman I would love more than anything in this world. A woman who would love me--”

“Stannis--”

“I am not a handsome, golden knight” he continued. “I am a man more familiar with war than love, but you, you changed everything. Once I laid eyes upon you, I was lost.”

“My dark, beautiful Duke” she moved into his lap, holding him tightly. “I never thought that I would be whole again, but with you I am. You are my home, our family is my home” she kissed him as a knock sounded at the door. 

They stood back as the large metal tub and warm water was carried in, thanking the maids softly before barring the door and seeing to each others’ clothing. 

“Come, my King” she lead him to the warm water and he followed, unable to look away. 

“Lord T---”

“Don’t” he cut off the words his harsh tone. “Is it her?”

“All of the lords of the North have accepted her, including those that knew her before” Petyr Baelish spoke. “It is her.”

“So she is alive after all” Maester Pycelle shook his head. “Imagine surviving the jump.”

“There is more, Lord Hand” Baelish continued. 

“More?” Tywin glared. “You tell me Sansa Stark is alive, Queen in the bloody North and has taken Winterfell with all her bannermen and there is more!?”

“With her is Stannis Baratheon and his armies” Baelish continued. “I have heard it that they are wed.”

“Married” the cold fury in the Hand’s voice was terrifying. “Leave us” Tywin ordered the rest of the council, waiting until it was only him and the Mockingbird in the room. “You will ride North and you will find her. Endear yourself to her if you have to but you will find her, get into her inner circle and report back to me.”

“Of course, Lord Hand” Baelish nodded. 

“I will follow with the army and we will show them how the Lannisters deal with traitors to the crown. Queen in the North” Tywin shook his head. “I will kill that Baratheon husband of hers and marry her myself, then we’ll see who rules in the North.”

“And if she should carry his child?”

“Get rid of it.”

“As you say, Lord Hand” he turned away, his smile smug as he began to prepare for Winterfell, never seeing the shadow that watched him go.


	16. Part 16

Stannis sat at the desk that had once been Lord Stark’s, writing quickly on the scroll he was going to send to Tywin Lannister. The North was united now, the Lords under the roof of Winterfell as they celebrated the return of their Queen and waited for the next step. 

Pausing he smiled, a Queen he had left thoroughly ravished in their bed this morning. 

He continued writing for several more minutes and when he was dusting it with powder to dry it he saw Little Stannis standing in the doorway holding his bear and looking half asleep. It was past midday, a time Sansa normally put him down to nap. 

“Hello” he smiled at the boy who then approached the desk. Before he could protest the boy was crawling into his lap and making himself comfortable. 

“We are Stannises” Little Stannis poked his chest. 

“We are” he held the boy in place, awkwardly at first but soon his arm was around the boy’s back. “I am Stannis, first of his name and you are Stannis, second of his name.”

“First” he pointed to him. “Second” he pointed to himself. 

“Correct” Stannis declared and the boy smiled, looking so much like Davos that Stannis felt his chest ache. 

“So that’s where he snuck off to” Sansa said quietly from the doorway. Little Stannis had snuck away from his nap and she looked high and low for him only to find him asleep on her husband's lap as he rather awkwardly wrote letters with one hand. “I have been searching for him.”

“I believe he planned to escape his nap” Stannis spoke softly. 

She smiled, “How long has he been asleep?”

“An hour or so I should think” Stannis replied. “I have been working so I cannot be sure.”

“You, my king” she came to lean on the desk beside him. “Are a natural father.”

“I do not know how you determined that, my experience with children is minimal at best,” he countered. 

“You’re a good father to the seven Seaworth boys” she reasoned. “You protect them, provide for them, speak to them as equals and when they come to you, you do not turn them away. You could have easily brought him to me, but instead you hold him safely as you work” she cupped her husband's cheek, running her hand over the beard he had taken to growing in the North. “You look handsome with a child in your arms, I cannot wait until it is a child of our blood.”

“Nor can I” he admitted softly, lifting a hand to rest on her stomach. “Soon, I would hope.”

“Me as well” she replied, glancing to his desk. “You’re writing to Lord Tywin?”

“Lord Tywin, Renly and your Uncle Edmure” he explained. “To set things in motion.”

She nodded, “Good. The sooner the Lannisters are out of power and gone, the better.”

“I agree” he nodded. “Have you chosen a Hand yet?”

“I was going to speak with her after I found Little Stannis” Sansa said. 

“Lady Mormont then” Stannis nodded in approval. “She is a good choice.”

“I agree,” she said as a raven appeared in the window. “Oh.”

“Dark wings, dark words” Stannis said as she crossed to take the scroll from its leg. “Open it.”

“Its from” she paused. “Varys.”

“My connection in King’s Landing” Stannis explained. “A man who, like myself, cares deeply for the realm.”

“He is the master of whispers, he---” she turned back to the letter and felt her stomach drop. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Baelish is coming” she frowned. “A spy to be posing as a friend of my mother.”

“What shall we do then, my Queen?”

“My choices are kill him on sight or use him to mislead Lord Tywin” she reasoned quicky. “He is not a violent man, from what I remember in King’s Landing, trades in prostitutes and secrets.”

“Will he try to hurt you?” Stannis was aware this was a strange conversation to have while a child slept on his lap. 

“He wouldn’t do it himself, he would orchestrate it or take me to someone who would” she paused. “He betrayed my father.”

“How do you know?”

“Sandor, the Hound, he snuck me into the black cells to see my father before he died,” she told him. “He warned me of Baelish, told me that he had betrayed him to earn Lannister favor.”

“Then we allow him entry to Winterfell” Stannis began. “And we hold him accountable.”

She set the scroll on the table, “Do you think Lord Tywin would rather have his head? Or should we go with the irony of sending his little finger.”

“Lady Mormont” Queen Sansa’s voice found her in the courtyard talking with her men. “May I have a word with you?”

“Of course, your grace” the tall, dark-haired girl nodded, excusing herself from her men. Though she was only ten and eight, a few years younger than the Queen, she had already fought several battles alongside her men. Having no stomach for court and dresses, she was fortunate to come from Bear Island and the North where the women were permitted, even encouraged, to fight. 

She was more than happy to answer the call of Lord Stannis Baratheon when he informed her that he had found their Queen and would bring his army North to help them throw the Bolton traitor down. As far as battles went it was short and bloody, their forces making easy work of the Lannister’s pets. And afterward, though she had schooled her features well, she had been deeply honored that Lord Baratheon had chosen her to lead a vanguard and escort the Queen home. Though he was a Southron Lord, Baratheon showed respect to the North and its people. 

He meant to take the rest of the kingdoms from the Lannisters, but leave the North to his wife to rule, surprising her and earning her loyalty. 

Walking beside the Queen they soon found themselves in the Godswood, the red leaves painting the sky a vibrant hue. The Queen moved to the stone bench and motioned for her to join her. 

Lady Sansa Stark has always been beautiful, her vibrant hair a rarity in the North, but now there was a sadness to her, not in her manner but in her eyes sometimes. She was a guardian to seven children and she had somehow survived King Joffrey, she was a woman with terrible memories in her past.

“I remember playing here as a child” the Queen mused, her voice tinged with sadness. “You and Arya would run to the training yard together anytime you visited and I would come here. I would like for us to speak openly, as friends.”

“Your grace,” Lyanna spoke then paused. “If I may, Lady Arya…?”

“She escaped King’s Landing long before I did” the Queen spoke. “I entrusted her escape and her care to Sandor Clegane, the Hound. He was our only protector in the city. I hold hope that she is safe and will come when she hears of our return to Winterfell.”

Lyanna nodded, grateful to hear that her friend had made it out of the city, “You jumped from the walls, they say.”

“I did” she laughed softly. “I was not a warrior like you or Arya. Any fight I had in me died in that city. Lord Rainwood found me in the water, pushed the water from my lungs and hid me. He protected me and after his death he still did, sending me and the boys to Lord Baratheon. I am lucky. Grateful to be home, as well.”

“Lord Baratheon is a good man” Lyanna commented. 

“He is” the Queen agreed. “I would like to ask you something, but before I do I want you to know that your refusal is an acceptable answer as well.”

Lyanna nodded, “I understand.”

“I ask you to be my Hand” the Queen’s words shocked her. “To stay in Winterfell for a time and help me to lead the North” she continued as she pulled a silver direwolf pin from her pocket. “I know I can trust you and that you will always help me to do what is good for the North.”

“I am deeply honored, your grace” she took the pin from her hand, surprised at its weight. 

“Here, in this place and when we’re alone, I would prefer you call me Sansa” the Queen asked. 

“I will be your hand, Sansa” Lyanna nodded. “I would be honored to be Hand of the Queen.”

“I am grateful” Sansa smiled then. “Because there is a man coming who means to betray us and I am going to need your help.”

That night in the hall, Queen Sansa stood from her chair, standing proudly beside her husband and raised her glass, “Friends” she spoke. “As my first task as Queen, I have chosen my Hand. I have chosen someone my Father would have turned to, someone I can turn to and someone who will help me to lead and fight for the North. I ask you raise your glasses to Lady Lyanna Mormont” she smiled as the room cheered, those from Bear Island heard above the rest. Lyanna stood, her direwolf pin in place as she raised her glass. “For the North!”

“For the North!”


	17. Part 17

“Lady Hand, Lord Petyr Baelish” one of the guards announced to Lyanna as she stood over the map table in the Queens offices. She had talked at length with Queen Sansa in regards to the Mockingbird, and when they had an accord, they brought the Northern Lords into their circle. 

The whole of the North knew exactly why this man was coming and they were all prepared to face him. They would no longer suffer traitors in the North and that included the man who had betrayed Eddard Stark. 

“Lord Baelish” she greeted him with an impassive expression. Motioning for him to sit on the other side of the map table as she took a chair of her own.

“Lady Hand” he greeted smoothly, obviously not expecting the Queen’s hand to be a woman. Traveling must have delayed his spies delivery of information. 

“Welcome to Winterfell” she stated. “Now I ask what brings you to the North.”

“I seek an audience with Lady Sansa--”

“Queen Sansa” she corrected dryly. 

“Of course” the man smiled. “I seek to talk with her. I was a friend of her mother, Lady Catelyn.”

“And now you seek to impose that friendship onto the Queen” Lyanna guessed. 

“I see to help her” Baelish corrected. 

“With what, exactly.”

“Ruling a kingdom has many intricacies” Baelish replied. 

“She does not need Southron help, Lord Baelish” Lyanna explained. “She has taken and united the North and will rebuild that which the Southron wars tore apart.”

“It is my understanding that she had Southron help already” he countered. “I have heard that Stannis Baratheon rescued her and marched his army North to win her Winterfell.”

“A romantic notion” Lyanna quipped, not liking the fire in this man’s eyes. Sansa was right, he was power hungry and cruel. 

“I do not believe that Stannis Baratheon has a romantic bone in his body” Baelish said. 

“You do not need romantic bones to win wars, Lord Baelish, just strong ones” Lyanna replied. “You are correct in believing that he marched North to help to take Winterfell. He gave his word to find our Queen and return her to us, and he kept that word. He is a man of great honor.”

“He is nothing if not dutiful” Baelish noted. 

“I suppose you have also heard that he has married Queen Sansa,” she continued, leading him into her trap. “This is also correct.”

“An advantageous marriage indeed” Baelish said, crossing his arms and stroking his chin with his thumb. “First he makes a queen, then he marries her.”

“If I were you, I would be careful not to imply that the man who saved the North from Lannister dogs is now using its Queen for his own purpose,” she warned. 

“Lady Hand---”

“I will not mince words with you, Lord Baelish” she cut him off. “Do the Lannisters know you are here? You are the Master of Coin in King’s Landing are you not?”

“I am, Lady Hand” he had no choice but to admit such. “And they are not aware of my movements.” Oh, she watched him closely, he flexed his ring finger when he lied.

“If you are here to help Queen Sansa, as you say you are, then you intend to betray the Bastard King” she stated. 

“King Joffrey---”

“Is not a king” she glared at him, tiring of his smooth words. “That had been confirmed first by Lord Arryn and then by Lord Stark during their time in King’s Landing. This information got them killed. Joffrey Lannister is a bastard born of incest, Lord Baelish. You would be a fool to believe otherwise.”

“So then you have accepted Stannis Baratheon as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne” Baelish reasoned. 

“I may be a woman, Lord Baelish, but I am not stupid” she glared. “I understand how succession works. King Robert died with no heirs, his brother is his heir by default. That is a fact and is not in question. What I question is if you intend to betray the Lannisters.”

“I knew Lady Catelyn from our youth growing up in the Riverlands,” Baelish tried to appeal to her feminine side with emotions. “I cared deeply for her and I would be honored to help her daughter.”

“You didn’t answer the question” she stared directly into his eyes, her patience growing thin. 

“Lady Hand” he shook his head. “I am loyal to myself--”

“Yes Lord Baelish, I have heard as much” Lyanna glared at him as Queen Sansa entered the room behind him.

“I did warn you not to trust me” Sansa spoke firmly from just inside the doorway. She had dressed for the occasion, wearing all black with a crown of silver swords atop her head. Stannis had assured her she looked every inch the Northern Queen of Winter as he kissed her forehead before she entered the offices. 

“My Lady” Baelish quickly stood to face her. He looked the same he had in King’s Landing, though perhaps with more silver in his temples. 

“It’s ‘your grace’,” Lyanna corrected. Sansa was proud of the girl, she’d talked circles around Baelish, a perfect choice as her Hand.

“Lord Baelish” Sansa said. “I should be surprised to see you in the North, but I am not.” He gave a slight frown and she continued. “‘I did warn you not to trust me’, is that not what you told Lord Eddard Stark as you held a dagger to his throat.”

“Your grace---”

“For all your spies and secrets you never saw what was right in front of you,” she explained. “Even with his hands tied by a white cloak, Sandor Clegane was more friend to me than you ever were my mother. I spoke with my father in the black cells. He told me everything. I may look like a stupid little dove, but I assure you I learned well in King’s Landing.”

“Your grace, I am here to help” he assured her and behind him she saw Lyanna’s glare deepen.

“Lord Tywin sent you, I would venture,” she said as Stannis moved into the room beside her. “He sent you to prey upon me and usurp my rule. To stop his rule” she looked to Stannis briefly. 

“I am here to help you, your grace” he repeated.

“Oh but you are going to help me, Lord Baelish” she replied. 

“Lord Hand” the servant handed him a scroll with a bow before vanishing outside the tent once more. Tywin turned it over to see the Mockingbird’s seal and quickly opened it. 

_I have reached Winterfell and earned Lady Sansa’s favor as instructed. The Duke’s men are still here as well as men from Bear Island. I have confirmed that she has wed the Duke but I have not seen evidence to any attachment to him. I have overheard that she wishes to meet with you, ahead of the armies. I believe this might be advantageous in removing her from the Duke’s company._

“The wolf rushes into the lion’s jaws” Tywin said to himself with a smile. 

He had left King’s Landing the same day as Baelish, moving North with the Lannister army to meet and stop any army traveling south before they reached The Twins, be it Stark or Baratheon. 

Baratheon, he growled to himself. He would see to it he personally killed Stannis Baratheon for taking the maidenhead that belonged to him. He would have her regardless, and with her he would have the North. 

“By now they will have reached the Vale” Lyanna moved the pawns accordingly as Sansa, Stannis and the Northern Lords watched. 

“Reports have the Lannister Army moving along the Kingsroad near Green Fork” Stannis added, moving the lion pawns. “Which means by the time they reach The Twins the army from Houses Mormont, Umber, Stark and Glover will be able to move in behind them and prevent any retreat.”

It was the first lesson he taught the boys, Sansa smiled, you can’t win a war on two fronts. Her husband was a very intelligent man, but more than that he cared. Cared for the realm, the people and he did his duty, big or small. 

Petyr Baelish had sent the letter they had him write and now he was sitting guarded in a cell below stairs. He would help them and then he would die for what he’s done.

“Karstark has sent word that they have reached White Harbor and they will sail for King’s Landing” Lyanna confirmed. “He will have the bulk of his men, ships from the Iron Islands, and will meet with the Baratheon army under Lord Renly’s command and the ships carrying men from Dorne.”

Sansa watched Stannis moved the pawns and examined the board. Their plan was to entrap the Lannister army that had moved north and keep them there while more travelled south on the Narrow Sea to take King’s Landing. The city would be guarded, but they would not have Tywin and his men. Between their ships and the amount of men they had they would be able to take the city. 

Soon she would have to say goodbye to her husband and send him to war and she was not looking forward to that day. He would sail south to meet his brother in Blackwater Bay to take his throne. She was afraid of losing him now that she had found him, afraid of losing more people she loved. They had been wed nearly three moons now and she had realized only yesterday that she had not bled since their wedding. Her mind had been so focused on the great tasks ahead that it did not occur to her that she could be with child, yet with child she was. 

She had to tell Stannis, she just didn’t know how to yet. 

“A raven for the Queen” a guard ran in, handing the paper to Stannis who turned it and frowned deeply. 

“Lannister” Stannis spoke, offering it to her. 

Swallowing she took the scroll and broke the lion seal, “Lady Sansa” she read aloud. “We had nearly reached an accord once, let us reach one now. I am near The Twins and ask you to share a conversation with me. Ride south and I will meet you, and do leave your husband behind.”

“It worked” Lyanna smirked. 

“Tywin will be focused on the North, he will not look South, not in time” Stannis frowned. “I don’t like this---”

“SANSA!” yelling in the courtyard reached them and he saw his wife sway on her feet. “WHERE IS SHE? SANSA!”

“Arya” Sansa gasped and bolted from the room. 

Stannis and the others followed, watching as a small figure in men’s clothing ran into the Great Hall. Behind her was the unmistakable figure of the Hound, his scarred visage scanning the room. The two women ran to each other, laughing and crying as they clung to each other. 

“Gods” Sansa sobbed as she released her sister, turning to the large man. “Sandor, thank you, thank you” she said over and over as she broke propriety and hugged the scarred man. “Thank you.”

“We rode as fast as we could when we heard” Arya smiled. 

“I am so glad you came, that you’re alive. I have so much to tell you both” she turned back to Stannis. “My Lord” she summoned him closer and he moved to her side. Taking his hand she introduced him to her sister and the Hound, her smile wide as she called him her husband. 

Stannis nodded to the princess, who for some reason had a small sword and turned to the Hound, “Clegane” Stannis took the man’s hand. “I owe you a great debt for what you have done for the Stark family.”

“I didn’t do it for you or any buggering debt” the man said gruffly. “I did it for them.”

“Aye” Stannis could see the affection in the man’s dark gaze. “You are part of their family, and now a part of mine.”

“As long as I can help you kill Tywin Lannister and his whole buggering family, that is fine by me” Sandor replied. 

“Agreed” Stannis nodded as the sound of little feet approaching filled the hall. 

“Is that the lost princess?” Dale ran up to Arya and then turned to look up at Sandor. “Oh….you’re the Hound.”

“Aye” Sandor nodded. 

Sansa picked up Steffon as he toddled on shaky legs toward her, “Lady Hand” she turned to a smiling Lyanna. “I believe tonight we should have a feast.”

“I agree, your grace” Lyanna nodded. “Welcome home Princess Arya.”

Arya frowned, “Princess….ugh.”

“How bad was it, Little Bird” Sandor asked Sansa a while later when all of them had adjourned to the Queen’s solar to catch up. 

“Bad” she whispered softly, holding a sleeping Steffon on her lap. “And then not so bad” she looked to the boys who were fascinated with whatever story Arya was telling them. 

“I heard tale you jumped from the wall” Sandor asked. 

“I did” Sansa nodded. “I had to or I would be Lady Lannister.”

“Buggering Lannisters” Sandor shook his head and then looked to Stannis. “I also heard you were looking for the Hound.”

“I was,” Stannis confirmed. “Even found your helm on the Saltpans. Your brother I presume” he said and Sandor nodded. “I had heard that you had the Stark sisters, and I was looking for them.”

“And then one found you” Sansa smiled at her husband. 

“She did indeed” he smiled back at her and Sandor found it a strange sight. He’d seen Stannis before and heard much of him from Robert and the Lannisters. They said he was a cold man, heartless and impassive. But the man sitting here was none of those things. Rigid perhaps, but not cold. Clearly not heartless since he clearly loved his wife and his wards. Perhaps, Sandor reasoned, it was the Sansa effect. She had brought warmth and happiness to this man. 

It had nearly killed him to leave her in the Keep, but he knew she was right, there was no other way to keep Arya safe. And so he pulled the little wolf away and kept her safe, because when it came down to it they were his only family. He couldn’t protect his sister, but he would protect these sisters. 

“Baelish is here” Sansa told him. 

“On Tywin’s order no doubt” Sandor scoffed. 

“That’s why he’s in the cells” Stannis agreed. 

“Kill him” Sandor suggested. 

“I will” Sansa agreed. “I am going to send him to Tywin in pieces. Starting with his little finger.”

At that, the Hound threw his head back and laughed. 

“I’m so happy” Sansa whispered as she lay across Stannis chest that night in their chambers. They’d fallen to the bed in a flurry of kisses and now that they were sated they were both watching the fire. 

“I am glad to hear that” he absently ran his fingers over the bare skin of her shoulder. 

“Stannis” she said softly. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to have a baby” she turned to look up at him. 

“You’re….”

“With child” she finished for him. 

“Gods” he pulled her into his embrace, his heart racing. “My wife is going to have my baby” he kissed her hair. 

“You have given me a child,” she hugged him tightly. “A home, love and a family.”

“I love you, Sansa, with all that I am.”

“I love you, my husband.”


	18. Part 18

“The next time I see you, you will be king of the 6 kingdoms” Sansa whispered to her husband in the quiet of the Godswood. It was early yet but soon he would have to go. He would sail south to meet Renly and take back the realm from those who had so cunningly stolen it. 

“I will only be gone as long as necessary” Stannis assured her, holding her tightly. “I will be back well before our child arrives.”

“Just come back to be safely” she kissed his lips briefly. “I cannot bear this world without you, Stannis.”

“I will come back to you, to our family,” he told her, stroking a thumb over her cheek. “Then we will lead our people together.”

“I love you” she told him and he kissed her, deeply, fiercely, his arms banding tightly around her to hold her this one last time before duty called him away. She parted her lips, tasting deeply of her husband as he took her mouth. She clung to him, holding him tightly until the need for air drew them apart. 

“I love you, Sansa Baratheon” he whispered. “More than any land, crown or being in this world, I love you.”

“Lady Hand” Sansa’s voice interrupted her writing in the Queen’s offices. “It’s time.”

Lyanna gave a nod and followed the Queen of the North below stairs, the large body of the Hound joining them as they descended to the cells. As instructed they had waited nearly a moon’s turn after Lord Baratheon’s departure and today they would pull Tywin’s attention North once more. 

“Lord Baelish” Sansa’s voice was cold and clear. 

“My Lady” the man said weakly as the guards opened the door and he was dragged forward, eyes going wide at the sight of the Hound standing behind the Queen. They lead him through the keep, beyond the courtyard to the snowy kill above the keep where the remaining Northern lords were waiting. 

All of the men had their gazes locked on the man who had delivered Lord Stark to his death, each Northern glare as hard as the next. 

“Lord Petyr Baelish” Sansa spoke evenly. “You stand accused of treason and aiding in the death of Lord Eddard Stark. You came North to commit treason once more in delivering my people to Tywin Lannister.”

“My lady--”

“It’s ‘your grace’,” several of the northmen corrected him. 

“I only sought to help” the man dropped to his knees to beg. 

“Help” Sansa pulled a scroll from her cloak pocket and looked him in the eye. “Help like when you tried to bribe one of my guards to send Tywin a raven informing him that you had been caught?” Baelish’s eyes went wide at the sight of the haggard scroll. “My men are not stupid, Lord Baelish. I made they were all well aware of what sort of man you were long before you arrived. I knew what you would try to do the moment you were in the cells. The guard you bribed? Lord Glover, a good, loyal man who volunteered to watch you, wait for you to make your move.”

Sandor Clegane then moved forward to stand beside Sansa then, Baelish’s body deflating as he did so. 

“Any last words?” Lyanna asked coldly as Sandor drew his sword. 

“I loved you mother,” Baelish told her. “And you who were so much like her---”

“You loved the money I made you” Sansa cut him off. “When the bastard king had me beaten and nearly raped in front of his court he told me about you, Lord Baelish. The man who had started serving up redheaded prosititues for the Kingsguard and Lords to fuck, to hurt. My red hair made you a rich man once.”

“Tywin Lannister was my best customer” Baelish’s voice was cold, angry and uncomposed. 

She wanted to hit him, but instead she took a step back, “In the name of the North, I, Queen Sansa Stark, sentence you Lord Petyr Baelish to death” she glared at his whimpering form as Greatjon placed a wooden block in front of the prisoner and held him down. She gave a nod to Sandor and did not look away as the sword fell. 

“Lord Hand” a guard came in carrying a wooden box, setting it on the table before placing a small parcel on the top. “These just arrived.”

“You’re dismissed” the Great Lion snapped and the man scurried away. Picking up the paper parcel he saw the direwolf sigil in the wax and his mouth quirked in a smile. Breaking it open he unfolded it only have his smile fall at the sight of the small finger that fell to the top of the box, a mockingbird sigil ring still in place. Looking to the letter he read the feminine scrawl. 

_“Lord Tywin, Traitors have no place in the North, so I will return yours to you. Forgive me, he is not in the condition in which he arrived. There will be no parlay, there will be no negotiation and I will never be your wife. I wish you the best in the war to come, Lord Tywin, as I have just given the command to open hunting season on all lions who dare threaten my family. -Sansa Stark, Queen of the North_

Setting the letter aside, he felt fury in his veins as he opened the lid to see the rotting head of Petyr Baelish inside. 

“Guard!” he barked out and the man appeared. “Take this and dispose of it” he grabbed the severed finger and took the sigil ring. “This too” he tossed the finger into the box. 

Storming across the tent he refocused on the map, wondering how he would take the North without a man on the inside. Baelish had mentioned before that most of the armies had gone, leaving on Baratheon and the Bear Island men in place. He could march on Winterfell and take it directly, he had the numbers. That could leave the Southron kingdoms exposed to attack, but they should be safe, Baratheon wouldn’t dare leave his bride, would he?

“When will First be back?” Little Stannis asked her as she sat on the large bed surrounded by the Seaworth boys. Steffon was asleep on her lap, his body now almost too large to fit comfortably, especially now that her stomach had started to show her pregnancy. In truth everyone in Winterfell had noticed that she was with child, and while the Lords were all congratulatory, Lyanna had told her that they worried that she would be taken in childbed and they would lose their Queen. Sansa had only assured them all that her mother bore 5 healthy children and she intended to do the same.

“He will only be away another few moons” she told him. “He is going to rescue the realm from the Lannisters and take back his brother’s crown.”

“Will he fight in battle?” Maric asked. 

Sansa swallowed a lump of emotion as she nodded, “Yes, I would think so, but he is a fine knight indeed.”

“And when he gets back, he brings the baby with him?” Devon asked. 

Sansa laughed softly, “No, love” she smiled. “He will be back before the baby arrives.”

“Oh” Devon nodded, though still confused. 

“Will it be a boy?” Matthos asked. 

“I do not know” Sansa told him. “We won’t know until it arrives.”

“When’s that?” Dale asked. 

“Not for another 5 moons or so” she explained. “Now come, I will tell you all a story and then bed time for you all.” They listened intently as she told a tale of a queen with dragons who had once tried to fly across the narrow sea and take the realm with fire and blood. 

“Your Grace” Sandor’s voice sounded as he and Arya entered the Queen’s offices. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Sansa asked, rising to her full height. While Sansa was every inch the Queen, Arya was just as equally a warrior. Dressed similarly to Arya she looked like a warrior princess, ready to defend her people. Sandor admitted he had been training her since they left the city and by now she was quite good. 

“Lannisters have been spotted just a few days south of Castle Cerwyn” Sandor told her and she heard Lyanna curse beside her. “And this just arrived” he extended the scroll to her and she took it. 

Breaking the lion’s seal she read aloud, “I promised you once I would come for you. I mean to keep that promise.”

“He thinks we have Baratheon and Mormont armies alone” Lyanna reasoned. “He means to take the North by force.”

“Lord Baratheon said he would do as much. I just didn’t expect it so soon. Well, if means to take it, then we let him think he can” Sansa said plainly. “We can send men from Winterfell ahead to Castle Cerwyn,” Sansa continued, looking to the map table. “Lord Baratheon’s men will split, half advanced and half remain at Winterfell” she moved the pawns. “By now the armies of Mormont, Glover, Umber and the rest of Stark men will be behind the Lannisters.”

“Correct” Lyanna moved to the Queen’s side. “If Tywin is already near Cerwyn then we ride to meet him and watch the trap close.” 

“I will ride to meet him,” Sansa said firmly. “Sandor at my side and you here with Lyanna to protect the keep” she told her sister. 

“Sansa this is war, it isn’t safe” Arya argued. “You’re with child--”

“We won’t be safe until the Lannisters are gone” Sansa countered. 

“Let me go, Little Bird” Sandor suggested. “I will bring you his head, you know I will.”

“Sandor--”

“I didn’t protect you once” he frowned deeply. “I will do it now.”

She was silent for many minutes, looking from her sworn shield to the table before giving a sigh and touching the soft swell of her stomach, “I will regret not being able to see him die.”

“You will be safe here” Sandor assured her. “I will handle the lion cunt.”

“Alright” Sansa gave a nod. “Then send his body south. Deliver him to my husband.”

“Aye” Sandor nodded and got to work. 

“Are you ready brother?” Renly smiled up at his much-changed older brother. The gloomy Duke was nowhere to be found, instead he found a warrior king, wed and at the head of his own family. 

“Aye” Stannis nodded, pulling on his gloves as they moved to the bow of the warship. “For go forward. Only forward” his dark eyes fixed on the jut of the Red Keep, a scar on the horizon. 

“Ours is the Fury” Renly said beside him as they readied themselves.


	19. Part 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of gore (canon typical) and a character death (one who is trivial in this particular fic). 
> 
> Oh an canon typical Sandor language. That's a given.

It had been a while since Stannis had found himself in the thick of a battle. Such a long while that he had almost forgotten how much he hated the stench of blood, sweat and death. _’You’ve grown soft’_ Davos would have smirked at him and Stannis would have glared in return. 

King’s Landing had not been prepared, by the grace of the Gods, and with the sheer numbers they had soon Stannis was in the courtyard of the Red Keep, a bleeding Renly at his side and a gigantic blonde woman at Renly’s back. 

“Take that tower” Stannis ordered men to the left and the sound of their heavy footfalls flooded into Maegor’s Holdfast. As more of his men spilled in behind him the sent them throughout the Keep as he and his vanguard made their way to the Great Hall. 

“Gods it's still hideous” Renly scoffed at the red and gold decor surrounding the massive Iron Throne. Stannis paid the decor no mind, because there on steps was the Kingslayer, sword ready.

“Kingslayer” Stannis stated. 

“Am I to constantly find myself in the middle of Baratheon rebellions?” the blonde man quipped. 

“This isn’t a rebellion” Stannis told him. “This is my family taking back what they won. The Iron Throne is mine by right since you were the one who put his seed in his sister rather than let my brother do his duty.”

“Ah” the Kingslayer scoffed. “I am afraid I cannot let you hurt my family.”

“It is no mind, you’ll all be dead soon” Stannis assured him. “You can protect them in the next life.”

“Not before the Great Lion takes that lovely wife of yours” Stannis felt his blood grow cold at the Kingslayer’s words. He bit back his emotion, grinding his teeth against his rage. 

“You any good with that” he said instead, looking to the man’s sword.

“They call me the best” the Kingslayer descended the steps. 

The rightful king, clad in sinister all black raised his sword. With an impassable expression he met the golden knight’s blade with his own, the Great Hall echoing with their sword falls. 

Sandor Clegane had ridden into battle before, but never to this sight. Usually he was with the group of red tents, putting his sword to use for Tywin Lannister. But today he would protect his family from the lions and so the horizon he faced was littered with red tents. 

Make no mistake, those Stark girls were his family, his real family. He had stood by them in King’s Landing and taken Arya away at the first chance he had. He taught her all he could, trained her to survive all while wondering where his Little Bird had gone. The day he heard she jumped from the wall he found it hard to breathe, stumbling back against the wall of their cabin he stared at the ground for so long Arya had come looking for him. 

He’d seen what they had done to Sansa in court, what that bastard king put her through. He’d been there the day they lashed her with barbs, though he’d come in late with Lord Tyrion, and he’d immediately covered her nudity with his own cloak, ripping the white length to protect her. She’d fainted the moment he’d lifted her, the pain finally taking her into oblivion. 

Leaving her behind was a decision he had never wanted to make, watching her run back to the guards would haunt him forever. What horrors had she endured then? The horrors of Tywin Lannister, for certain. 

But she survived, somehow, the Little Bird grew wings and flew away, landing at the feet of Lord Stannis Baratheon. She’d worked her magic once more, her beauty and good heart melting the Duke until he all but eloped with her. Stannis Baratheon eloping, he scoffed. Had he not seen them with his own eyes, he would not believe the rumor that Baratheon loved his pretty wife. But he did, with enough fury to ride into the North and give her her crown first. 

She carried a child now, perhaps a girl with fire in her hair or a boy that looked more Baratheon than Northern. Either way he would ensure they both survived. He had ridden with the army to Castle Cerwyn, positioning themselves at the south side to prepare to defend the keep. Cerwyn helped the Starks take back Winterfell, now Winterfell would help defend them. 

“Buggering Lannisters” the man beside him, Edric Storm, who was the fucking image of Robert Baratheon in his heyday, grimaced. Fucker even had a warhammer, Stranger save him from Baratheon bastards.

“RIDER” someone called out and Sandor turned to see an unmistakable form riding to meet him. Clad in all black armor, dominating his mount in size, there was his big fuckng brother. 

‘Little Brother” the Mountain chuckled as he opened his helm to speak. He reined hi mount to a stop a few yards from Sandor’s own.

“Cunt” Sandor greeted him. 

“Quite a few Northmen you’ve brought with you” the Mountain replied. “Not enough, though.”

“Enough to send you lot out of the buggering North” Sandor replied. “Where’s your Lord? I would speak with him before he dies.”

“Don’t you worry about Lord Tywin” the Mountain glared. “I am finally going to get to finish that job I started long ago” he ran a hand over the side of his face. “Then I am going to take the North and fuck that Queen of theirs bloody.”

Sandor didn’t reply to his threat, he could already feel the Northern Lords bristling behind him. Instead he merely gave a nod and said “See you tomorrow, big brother.”

“I look forward to it” the Mountain pulled his helm closed and rode back to the Lannister camps. 

Sandor watched until his brother was out of ear shot then turned to his commanders, “Tywin isn’t here, if he was he would have come” he shook his head. “Gregor is the man he puts in charge when he wants a point made. He’s let his dog off the leash and gone.”

“Where?” Storm asked. 

“He’d only go one place” Sandor frowned. “Send a raven to the Queen, tell her to be ready.”

“Aye” Storm have a nod and rode to the keep at full tilt. 

Sandor and the other Lords followed and he found himself praying, for the first time in a very long time, praying that the Stark girls were safe. 

Stannis’ body burned with exhaustion as he parried another attack, side stepping the Kingslayers blade to land a blow to the man’s arm. Renly and the big woman were taking on another wave of Kingsguard who had arrived but Stannis’ focused stayed on the blonde man in front of him. 

An explosion echoed as his men fired cannons from the attack ships in port, an action he had expected but the Lannister before him did not and it gave him enough opening to cut the man down. Stannis had spent enough time in naval battle to know when to scuttle ships and send them to the ocean floor, he had taught his men well and today it served him well. 

“For once you didn’t lie,” Stannis said to the dying man. “You might have been the best.”

“He’ll find her” the Kingslayer choked. 

“She’s well protected” Stannis replied drolly. 

“Cersei….” the man looked to the banners and Stannis watched the life fade from his eyes. 

“The Queen and her children are dead” one of Stannis’ commanders announced, striding into the Great Hall with a hand full of served, blonde heads. “They were dead when we stormed the Holdfast.”

“An executioner then” Stannis frowned as the blonde heads joined the Kingslayer’s body. 

“The Imp?”

“Fell at the gate” the big blonde woman explained. 

“The half-man died fighting” Renly chuckled. “More than I can say for the bastards.”

“It’s done then” Stannis turned his ear to the sound of fighting outside the Keep. The cannons had fallen silent now, the sound of cheering reaching him. 

“It's done” Renly agreed. 

Wiping his sword on the Kingslayers cloak, Stannis sheathed Lightbringer and turned to the Iron Throne. 

“I won't lie, it looks blasted uncomfortable” Renly quipped and Stannis felt his mouth quirk. “You almost smiled, who _are_ you and what have you done with my brother?”

“Renly? Shut up” Stannis shook his head

“Are you going to take it or shall I, Your Grace?” Renly motioned to the throne. 

Stannis extended his hand to his brother and they clasped each other’s forearms, “Be my hand” Stannis asked. “I need a man I can trust and who better than my brother?”

Renly nodded, “Done. You’ll be in the North so often it's as if I will be King anyway” he smirked. 

Stannis released his brother’s arm and moved toward the dias that held the Throne. At the left he grabbed the Lannister banner hanging along the wall and tore it free, wadding it up and tossing the fabric into the bowl of the large torch before doing the same on the right side. The red and gold fabric burned away as he walked to the truly hideous Iron Throne. 

In this moment he should have thought only of victory and triumph. Of his family’s honor and duty. But instead he thought of his wife, his beautiful Queen of Winter. Turning, he sat on the cold surface, his body weary but mind racing. 

“Ours is the fury!” Renly yelled and the call echoed throughout the hall, courtyard and across the city.


	20. Part 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sandor Clegane is his own warning...

“Sansa” Arya said softly as she entered her chambers. 

“Hmm?” Sansa turned from where she was brushing her hair before dressing to address her sister. She wore only her robe but she didn’t need to stand on formality with Arya. 

“Gods, you’re getting big” Arya laughed at the size of her sister’s belly. 

“I will get larger, I still have several moons to go” Sansa assured her, absently touching her stomach, marvelling at the life that grew within her. She was only perhaps five moons along but her stomach had grown quickly, now obvious to all. 

“I will stick to fighting” Arya shook her head before she flopped onto the large master’s bed. “I miss them.”

Sansa could not mistake her sister’s meaning, “I miss all of them.”

“Who’d have thought it would be the Stark sisters who would take the North back” Arya mused. “You were once so girly and now you’re a Queen fighting a war.”

“I was forced to grow up” Sansa said. “And I married a good man who taught me well.”

“I never would have pictured you wed to Stannis Baratheon” Arya scrunched her nose. 

“I love him” Sansa replied. “I fell in love with him on Dragonstone.”

“And now you’re going to have his baby” Arya said. “I think I should like to know what it's like…”

“Having a baby?” Sansa asked. 

“No, the other part” Arya shrugged. 

“I would caution you to marry first” Sansa said. “You are a princess now.”

“I do not wish to marry, I wish to fight” Arya replied. “As I always have.”

“Then pick a man who cares for you, at least for the first time” Sansa felt her cheeks heat slightly. “It will be easier. And drink moon tea if you’re not going to marry” she turned to discard her robe and she froze when she heard her sister’s gasp. This time it wasn’t at her stomach, but at her exposed back. 

“Sansa…” she heard the shuffled of fabric and then Arya was behind her. The last time Arya had seen her back was the first time she’d been whipped. That had been nothing compared to the horror that had become her back. Sansa moved to grab her shift but Arya stopped her. 

“He did this?” Arya asked softly. 

“Him. Trant. Blount” Sansa explained. 

“I hope your husband kills them all” Arya glared then, her dark eyes so full of fury. 

“Me too” Sansa agreed. “Now let me dress so we can get to work.”

“We’ve had a scroll from Cerwyn” Lyanna announced as Sansa entered the Queen’s offices. “Ser Gregor Clegane is leading the Lannister Army. Which leads Clegane to believe that Tywin is not within their ranks.”

“Then where is he?” Sansa asked. 

“My guess?” Lyanna asked. “Coming for you. If he was going south he would have met our flanking armies by now.”

Sansa turned to Arya, “Warn everyone, increase the men at the wall” her sister nodded and ran to her work. 

“We have enough supplies to hold Winterfell in seige, but the armies surrounding us will not fail” Lyanna stated. 

Sansa looked to the map and nodded at the pawns, her hand going to the Stag placed in King's Landing, “He will be King by now.”

“Aye” Lyanna agreed. “And Clegane will face his brother on the open field.”

“Let us pray he gets his victory, and his revenge.”

The morning was cold, a soft snow falling around them, silent in contrast to the rage of the battle that was turning the snow on the ground into a mixture of mud and blood. Sandor roared, cutting down man after man from his destrier as he kept half an eye on his brother. 

The lions were outnumbered and slower in their heavy armor, but their swords were sharp enough. A few horses went down beside him, men falling with them but Sandor kept moving, driven by bloodlust and righteous fury.

Storm was beside him, tearing through men with his warhammer, blue eyes dark with his own determination. He’d be terrifying to fight against, Sandor mused. Clad in black armor with the flaming stag across his chest the young bastard was born for war. 

“Little Brother” Gregor yelled and Sandor turned, having lost sight of him in the chaos, to find his brother on his mount on a few yards away. Lannister men littered the snow, scars on the terrain, but Sandor only had eyes for his brother. “Time to die, little brother!”

“Fucking cunt” Sandor turned his mount towards his brother and charged. 

Men would talk for years, decades, tell the story of the Great Battle of Cerwyn where The Hound and The Mountain fought at last. Two Southron men doing their damndest to cut each other down. Around them raged the Lannister, Stark and Baratheon armies, the North men driving the invading lions back until they retreated right into the hands of even more Northmen. 

Edric had grown up knowing one day he would go to war. He was a bastard living with his mother in Storm’s End and all anyone ever told him about his father was that he looked just like himself. Black of hair and blue of eyes then, Edric had reasoned. He had never dared to think that his father was noble born, not until Lord Stannis Baratheon arrived and looked him dead in the eyes and gave a nod, “Gods you’re his image” the Lord muttered. 

Edric left with the Lord, travelling with him as a squire, then trained at Stannis’ guidance, the Lord shaking his head softly as Edric picked up a warhammer for the first time. “Should have known” Stannis had told him, clapping him on the shoulder. When Edric turned ten and eight Stannis told him that he wasn’t a Storm, he was a Baratheon and his nephew by blood. 

Robert Baratheon was his father, he told him, his blood and as such trusted Edric with a batallion to lead. Edric had stayed in Storm’s End then with Lord Renly, moving up the ranks until now at twenty and 5, he was a commander. And at Winterfell and now Cerwyn, he lead his men to victory. 

It was bloody, horrific and a slaughter, the Lannister army laid to waste as the North defended their lands. But more than a slaughter it was where the Cleganes roared, spit, punched and sliced at each other, uncaring of the war around them. 

Edric watched as Gregor cut Sandor’s arm, sending the smaller man reeling but The Hound would not be defeated, raining his own blows onto The Mountain’s blade with a roar. The Mountain blocked as best he could but as he stepped he slid on the snow and the misstep was enough to cost him dearly. 

Sandor tore at the man’s throat with his armored hand, ripping the larger man’s throat out with surprising violence and tossed the flesh into the snow as The Mountain staggered, then fell. It was done. 

Men would tell stories of the battle for years, Edric thought once more. They would all tell stories of the Hound who, bleeding from cuts across his arms and legs, removed his gloves and laughed as he whipped himself out and pissed on the still warm corpse of The Mountain. 

Stannis stood on the steps of the Red Keep, pulling on his gloves as he prepared to leave the city he had taken only three moons ago. Settling the realm had taken longer than he wanted, and while he had sent the Northern armies back to Winterfell and the North, he had to stay behind. He missed his wife, terribly. He’d become a scowling miser without her.

He had received word from Cerwyn that they had been forced to defend the keep from lions at their door and Tywin had not been among them. Stannis felt panic clutch his stomach at that. He had been planning to return North shortly but he had hastened his trip, handing Renly the reins as he went to defend his wife. 

“Watch for the Tyrells” Stannis told his brother. “Olenna and Margaery both were not amongst the--”

“I know, brother” Renly chuckled. “Brienne has her best men on it.”

“Run them down to Highgarden if you must” Stannis told him. 

“Once she is found I will send word” Renly agreed. 

“I will send word when I reach Winterfell” Stannis told him. 

“Then I will await news of your victory and my new niece or nephew. Oh and send Edric to me, would you? I could use another Baratheon,” Renly shook his hand and then Stannis was mounting his black stallion, turning to the North and riding with his vanguard to meet his men outside the wall. 

People lined the streets, all of them watching as their new King rode by. The large, imposing frame of the once Duke made all the more terrifying by his all black attire and the crown of golden antlers atop his head. His face was impassive and cold, the flaming heart banner behind him glowing in the sun.

This man had taken the city without harm to its people, had cut down the kingslayer in single combat and had married the lost Princess who had jumped from the wall to escape the Lannisters. A woman who was now Queen in her own right. With the fist of the Lannister’s loosened, the people had food and in the coming months new trade.

Awed silence followed as the King rode through the city, everyone wondering if the man were the Warrior himself. 

“RIDER” the call echoed across the ramparts of Winterfell as the men emerged from the tree line beyond. It was a few hundred men, perhaps less, all in bright red, a man on a white horse at the front. “RIDERS!”


	21. Part 21

Tywin sat atop his white mount and stared across the snow at the figure of the woman that he had gone to war to take back. 

She had grown, both in beauty and figure, though he should attribute that to the child she carried, he grimaced. Stannis Baratheon's get had no right to grow in her womb. That should have been a Lannister. No matter, he would deal with the babe and the next one would be a lion. 

He would admit that pregnancy was a good look on her, rounded and lush as a woman should be. She clearly had the Tully fertility, a good quality to have. The arrogant tilt of her jaw was the same, defiant even staring him in the face. He couldn’t wait to have her beneath him. 

She stood alone on the hill, silver crown of winter atop her fiery hair, black cloak blowing in the breeze. 

With a glance to the man along the parapets beyond, he urged his mount forward. It was only a matter of time before The Mountain and the Lannister army arrived and he wanted a moment to speak with her before that. 

She was even more stunning up close and when he reined to a stop a few feet from her she never flinched. 

“Lord Tywin” she raised a brow. 

“Lady Stark” he replied. 

“Its Lady Baratheon or Your Grace, Lord Tywin” she corrected cooly, looking up at him. 

“It will be Lady Lannister soon enough” he stated and she laughed. 

“Old Gods save me from arrogant men” she shook her head. 

“I knew you’d survived the jump” he told her.

“Technically I did not” she replied. “But I would rather have died than spend another second in that prison.”

“I offered you a way out” he countered. 

“By opening my legs for you?” she shook her head. “I’ll take the chance at a jump.”

“You would be a Lady to a powerful house!”

“I would have been your broodmare” she countered. “Let me guess, fuck a son into me and send me North to control the people who evaded your grip?”

“I’d fuck a dozen sons into you---”

“I would rather die.”

“You were always spirited, stronger than my grandson gave you credit for” he dismounted then and faced her, surprised to see how much taller she had grown. He took a few steps toward her but stopped when an arrow landed in the snow in front of him. 

“That’s a warning” she cautioned him, unflinching. “You only get one.” She knew that she was well protected, even at this distance. At this point she was buying time. She knew the army was currently circling behind his men in the woods and soon Sandor would come over the rise to the south with the troops from Castle Cerwyn. 

“I was right you know, you were born to be a queen,” he said. “Unbroken by abuse, look at you---”

“Isn’t it lovely to see what a woman can be when she isn’t beaten daily” she glared, fire in her eyes. 

“I’d have made you a Lady, given you protection” he reasoned, emerald eyes full of fury. 

“You’d have raped me,” she countered. “You think I would have gone to our wedding bed willingly? You’d have taken me anyway.”

“It would have been your duty” he argued. 

“I’ll take the jump” she said once more. 

“Obstinate girl!”

“Queen. Sansa. Baratheon” she corrected. 

“Baratheon” Tywin’s laugh was cold. “You refuse me and yet spread your legs like a bitch in heat for Stannis fucking Baratheon. That should have been a Lannister!” his voice rose as he pointed to her stomach. 

“No part of me will ever be a Lannister” she shouted back. 

“And where is this cowardly husband of yours that sends you to greet the Great Lion alone?”

Sansa felt her lips form a smile, “By now, I would guess His Grace, King Stannis Baratheon, ruler of the 6 kingdoms is heading back from King’s Landing to attend the birth of his first son. He’s been south, you see” at her words Tywin froze. “Where he killed your daughter, your sons, your grandsons, your granddaughter and every last inch of legacy that you had left” she raised a brow. “You were so busy chasing after me like a bitch in heat that you didn’t see the armies to your south, the ships in the narrow sea. To the rightful king taking what was his by right.”

“You’re lying” his voice lacked conviction. 

“I have waited a long time, Tywin Lannister, to tell you to go fuck yourself” she spat. His hand shot out before she could stop it, grabbing her upper arm and yanking her to him, shielding himself from the archers. “Let me go” she warned. 

Her stomach rolled as his lips took hers in a violent, painful kiss. She didn’t hesitate, she pulled the dagger from her sleeve, one that Lyanna had strapped there after showing her exactly where to slip between armor plates, and slid it into the chest of plate of the Great Lion angled up and into his heart. 

He staggered back and she spit on the ground beside her, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Behind him his men were dying at the hands of Winterfell’s men, all of them falling into the snow. 

“Gods” he gave a twisted laugh, touching the hilt of the dagger. “You’d have been a glorious Queen.”

“I am a glorious Queen,” she told him simply as Sandor crested the hill from the south, the severed head of The Mountain in one hand, sword in the other. She stood over the Great Lion as he dropped to a knee before her, “It's too late to bend the knee, Tywin” she said softly as he fell back into the snow. She moved around by his head and knelt in the snow, singing softly as he took his last breaths. “And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?...” 

Sandor watched as Sansa sang the Great Lion into his death, the haunting tones of the Rains of Castamere filling the wind for a final time as the lion slipped into the Stranger's hands. 

When she finished, he moved forward, tossing his brother’s head beside Tywin and helped her to her feet. 

“Sandor” she smiled up at him. 

“It’s done, Little Bird” he assured her, offering his arm. 

“It’s done” she took his arm and went back to the keep. 

Stannis had ridden hard, pushing the vanguard to their limits on the long journey to Winterfell. Word reached him in The Twins that the Lannister army had fallen in the North and that Lord Tywin himself was dead. 

Rumors and gossip swirled around the inn, all of them saying that the Winter Queen stabbed him in the heart as he declared love, or kissed her according to some stories, and she sang him into his death. Stannis couldn’t help but smile, his stunning Queen. What a warrior she was.

Others said that the Hound killed the Mountain and pissed on his corpse in a moment of madness. They said that Robert Baratheon’s ghost fought for the North and Stannis knew that could only be Edric with his warhammer. The North was safe at last and the Kingdom could finally find peace. 

They’d reached the North at last, though darkness had fallen and the keep was at rest. He entered the keep and let the warmth sink into his bones. Moving swiftly and with a nod to Sandor Clegane who sat with Arya and Edric in the Great Hall, he went to the master’s chambers. His heart raced as he neared the door. 

He opened it slowly assuming she would be asleep, but instead he found her seated in front of the fire, singing softly as she brushed out her hair. He watched her, clad only in her robe that did nothing to hide the large swell of her stomach. She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

The last time he had seen her she showed no evidence of their child and now, nearly 6 moons later her slender frame was consumed by the swell. Her breasts had gotten fuller and her hair seemed to glow in the firelight. His Winter Queen. 

“Sansa” he entered and closed the door behind him. 

“Stannis!” she dropped her brush and pushed awkwardly to her feet and moved towards him. 

“Gods” he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply, hands clutching her tight. She clung to his lapels, returning his kiss with vigor, mewling against him. He tried to pull her closer but the bump of her stomach was in the way and he pulled back with a smile. “You’re stunning” he marvelled. 

“I’ve missed you” she said softly, tears on her cheeks. “But I am so glad you’re back now” she placed his hands on her stomach and he felt their child move beneath his hand. “They should be here any day.”

“Our child” he swallowed a wave of emotion. 

“Our child” she repeated, untying her robe so he could see her. A wave of lust and possessiveness coursed through him at the sight of her stomach, heavy and rounded, and her breasts the nipples darkened and begging for his touch. 

“You are a goddess” he pulled her into his arms, a hand trailing down her breasts to the swell of her stomach, smoothing over the skin. “Gods---” he growled, kissing her deeply. 

In his lustful haze he almost missed the noise of the door handle. Sansa stepped back, pulling her robe closed and tying it as the door opened to reveal Little Stannis, sleep in his eyes. The boy looked up, eyes widening as he saw who stood in the room. 

“First!” he ran and jumped into Stannis arms, hugging him tightly. 

“Hello Second” Stannis smiled at his wife who had fresh tears in her eyes. 

“I missed you” Little Stannis said. 

“I missed all of you” Stannis told him, holding the boy tight. 

“Are you a king now?”

“I am” Stannis said with a smile. 

“Does that make me a prince?” Little Stannis asked, leaning back to look up at him. 

“Absolutely.”


	22. Part 22

Sansa waited while her husband snuck Little Stannis back to his bed, her body aching for his in a near desperate way. She needed him and had been ready from the moment she heard his voice. He looked tired, his beard long but they both had weights lifted from their shoulders as the Lannister line came to an end. She was anxious to start their lives together as King in the South and Queen in the North. 

The midwife had told her that her stomach had dropped and the babe would arrive soon. Sansa had been worried that Stannis would not be back in time. They had exchanged letters, but nothing could compare to the feel of his arms around her, his kiss and making love to her husband. 

The door opened and he moved inside, this time barring the handle. 

“Where were we” he stalked toward her, shedding his cloak and pulled her into his arms. They were on each other with the desperation of lovers long parted, lips and tongues tasting deeply of each other as she worked his jacket free from his shoulders. 

He untied and opened her robe, groaning as he cupped the heavy weight of her breasts, teasing the peaks with his thumbs. 

“Please” she gasped against his mouth as she undid the buttons of his waistcoat and tore at his cravat. “I need you, please” she begged. He moved back and they quickly did away with the rest of his clothes before he moved back to her. She grabbed the thick length of his cock, stroking him from the tip to the next of black curls at the base, his feral growl making her legs weak. 

“Gods” he pushed her robe away. “I need to be inside you” he guided her to the bed, bracing her hands on the counterpane as he moved behind her. 

“Please” she begged as he reached around her to knead her breasts. She rubbed against him, moaning his name. Stannis couldn’t delay a second longer, guiding himself to her soaked folds he thrust slowly forward, filling her inch by inch. 

“Gods” he groaned, smoothing a hand up her back and around to her belly. “I’ve missed this” his voice skated across her skin and she could weep in relief. 

“I’ve missed you” she panted as he thrust deeper, stretching her. 

“I am not going to last long” he gave an odd laugh. “It's been too long and you’re soaked” he slid his hand from her belly to her bundle of nerves, working it as he lazily fucked her, his control paper thin. 

“I don’t care” she pleaded as he moved within her. “Oh Gods” she leaned heavily on the bed as he tortured and teased her, her body screaming for him with every beat of her racing heart. She leaned farther, muffling her cries in the counterpane as she raced towards her peak. 

“Sansa” he growled her name over and over, hips slamming against the cushion of her ass as he took her. She turned to look back at him, her warrior king, face a mask of pleasure and seconds later she came, screaming into her hand so she didn’t want the keep. 

He gripped her hips hard, thrusting deep and let go, unable to hold off any longer as he pulsed inside of her. 

“Gods” he sighed, resting his head on her back, lazily kissing her scarred flesh. “I love you and Gods did I miss you.”

“As I missed you, my love” she crawled onto the bed and lay on her side, unable to stand anymore. She smiled as her husband climbed onto the bed beside her, hands stroking over the swell of their child, awe in his eyes. 

“This is...there are no words” he swallowed. “I love you, Sansa-Alayne” he stretched out beside her to kiss her softly. “You are everything good in my life.”

“I love you” she smiled, snuggling against him. “More than anything, my husband.”

Morning found King Stannis in the Queen’s offices, pouring over the map table with the Lady Hand. 

“You will be happy to know that the Tyrells have been located in Dorne” Lyanna told him, pushing a scroll his way. “Lady Margaery is not with child, Loras is gravely wounded and Lady Olenna is not expected to live out the moon.”

“Traitorous leeches” Stannis frowned, scanning the scroll. “How fares the North?”

“Whole and healthy” Lyanna replied evenly. “Watching the Queen put a knife in the Great Lion’s heart made everyone smile.”

“Thank you, for arming her” Stannis said with a nod. “Showing her the plate seams to aim for.”

“I was happy to do so, your grace” she replied with a smile. “I have spoken with your brother, Lord Renly, in regards to sending both Ser Edric Storm-now Baratheon and Lady Arya Stark south for a time.” 

“Both of them?” Stannis asked. 

“While Lord Renly and yourself have legitimized Edric Baratheon, Lord Renly believes he would be a good captain of the guard, Lady Arya has expressed interesting working alongside him with the guard or small council” Lyanna explained. 

“A tendre then?”

“Affair, more like” Lyanna said plainly. 

“I see” Stannis frowned. 

“Queen Sansa has instructed use on moon tea, your grace, I assure you there will be no Baratheon bastards” Lyanna shocked him with her blunt words as Sansa entered the chambers. 

“My love” the Queen beamed and moved to his side. Her deep navy dress highlighted her swollen stomach perfectly, her skin glowing in the morning light. He had kept her up most of the night, both of them making up for lost time as they rediscovered their passions, but she still looked well rested and beautiful. Steffon toddled along with her, holding her hand and walking strongly now as he grew. 

Behind them the boys ran into the room, all of them jumping onto him with shouts of happiness and hugs. 

“Gods you’ve all grown” he smiled at them, crouching to speak with them as they all rapid fired questions at him. “Yes the lions are dead, yes I am king” he laughed as Little Stannis cuddled into his lap. His namesake had truly missed him. 

He could not pinpoint when it happened, there may have been no singular moment but a slow realization, that he had become a father to these Seaworth boys, just as Sansa had become their mother. Despite her being heavy with their first child, they already had 7 to shower with love. 

He looked up to his wife who was watching them with a smile, her hands on her stomach, a picture of maternal beauty. He could not wait to meet their child and work together to grow their family. 

“Uncle!” Edric yelled for him as he ran across the courtyard. Surprised at the boys informal address Stannis turned. “It’s time.”

“Time?”

“The Queen” Edric said with his brows raised. “You need to hurry.”

“Gods” Stannis paled, rushing passed the boy and into the keep. He left Clegane behind in the yard, the large man working with a newly promoted group of men on where they could plant scout towers throughout the North to give advance notice about invading armies. Stannis had dryly pointed out that _he_ was the only other ruler and he had no intention of invading the North but they discussed it anyway. Any scout warnings were useful.

He moved quickly inside. Arya was sitting in the Great Hall with the boys, all looked worried. Arya was doing her best to reassure them, being the good aunt she had grown to be. When he reached the small room attached to the master’s chambers the maid tried to stop him. 

“Your Grace---”

“Bugger off” he snapped at her, moving into the room and to his wife’s side. She was soaked with sweat and crying softly on the small bed, her spine arched with pain. “Sansa” he knelt beside her and she opened her eyes at his voice. 

“Stannis” she sobbed. 

“Her waters came early this morning,” the midwife told him. “Her grace has been working though most of her pains” she said incredulously. 

“The pain wasn’t bad” Sansa gasped for breath. “Not after Joffrey…”

“I understand, my love” he moved a sweat soaked lock of hair from her face. 

“You shouldn’t be here, your grace” the midwife cautioned. 

“If you think I am leaving my wife you’re a damned fool” he spat at her and she paled, returning to work. Sansa screamed out once more, her hand finding his and holding it tightly as the pain wracked her body. 

“Your grace, you will need to push soon” the midwife instructed. 

“Stannis please” Sansa begged, sobbing softly. 

“I am not leaving” he stood, shoving his cloak and hat side before moving behind her on the bed, taking the place of the pillows that held her propped up. She settled into the cradle of his legs, her back against his chest and hands in his. “I am not leaving” he promised once more, kissing her temple as her head lolled back onto his shoulder. 

He held her anchored as she screamed and cried, her body exhausted and soaked with sweat but he never thought her more beautiful than he did in this moment. Watching his warrior queen fight to bring their child into the world was nearly enough to have him sobbing in pride. 

“Almost there” the midwife encouraged, the maids moving quickly around the room. 

“I love you,” he whispered to her ear, holding her hands tight. “My beautiful warrior queen” he soothed her as pain wracked her once more and she bore down with all her might. Suddenly she sagged against him and he would have worried except the movement of the midwife brought to life the high, angry wails of a babe. 

“A son” the midwife cleaned the babes mouth and handed him to a maid. 

“A son” he closed his eyes tightly, desperate to control his emotions as Sansa cried with joy. 

“We’re surrounded by boys” she laughed, crying against his neck. He held her as the babe’s blanket was delivered and then suddenly a maid was handing his wife a wrapped, crying bundle. Stannis looked over her shoulder at the babe who instantly settled when in his mother’s arms. A shock of black hair atop his head, the boy looked at them with wide curious eyes of grey-blue. 

“Davos” he said softly. “A fine name for a king, I think.”

“It’s perfect, he’s perfect” Sansa stroked the babes cheek. “Davos Eddard Baratheon, heir to the Iron Throne.”

Later that night, after the bell in Winterfell’s tower fell silent, Sansa was bathed and in her nightgown in the master’s chambers. The boys, Arya, Sandor, Cressen and Lyanna had been to see the babe, the boys asked dozens of questions while Sandor simply smiled at the babe and gave a gruff ‘cute’. Little Stannis had been loathe to leave them, but once he fell asleep Stannis had carried him to bed for the night. 

Stannis stripped down to his small clothes, climbing into the large bed with his wife and son. He turned on his side to face Sansa who was laying on her side, her nightgown untied and Little Davos feeding hungirly from her breast. 

“He’s so beautiful” Sansa blinked away tears as they watched the tiny life they had created. 

“You did well, my love” Stannis agreed, watching them. It was awe-inspiring, he thought back. A year ago he had been secluded, fighting his demons and trying to set the realm to right. Then Davos sends him 7 children and a beautiful, passionate governess who changed everything. He loved her, deeper each day and together they had created another life, a boy who would grow up to be king of the 6 kingdoms. 

“I think I want a dozen children” Sansa laughed softly, reaching out to take his hand. 

He kissed the back of her hand, “I will give you as many as you want, love, as long as you promise me at least one daughter.”

Sansa smiled brightly, “At least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will add an epilogue to wrap this up! Thank you all SO much for sticking with me on this! I hope you all have loved it!


	23. Part 23 - Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this and sticking with me on the journey! I hope that you all LOVED it and I hope you will read my future regency work! (and Stansa stuffs)!
> 
> Thank you x3000. <3

_Ten Years Later_

Stannis smiled as he dismounted, the complete raucous of small voices reaching him as soon as his feet reached the ground. It sounded like a herd of elephants running their way.

“Were we like this, father?”

“Worse, there were twice as many of you” Stannis laughed at Dale’s look of horror. 

Now age twenty and one, Dale had taken on the mantle of his father as Viscount Rainwood. Dale had traveled with Stannis for many years, working with him closely as an advisor and trusted son. In turn Stannis taught him everything he would know to be a man of the _ton_. Dale had grown into the image of his father and sometimes Stannis would look over and imagine his friend was here once more. 

“Father!” Little Davos’ voice reached him as the boy flung himself into his arms. Stannis caught him easily, thanks to a decade of practise with rowdy boys and hugged his son close. 

“Gods you’ve grown” Stannis kissed the boys forehead. At ten years old Davos was Stannis’ double, tall, slender and with the Baratheon sharp gaze that made him a shrewd negotiator. Even if it was just for ten more minutes before bedtime.

“Wait till you see Alayne!” Davos laughed loudly, his best friend and brother Steffon Seaworth at his side and next to embrace him. 

Stannis rose back to his full height to see Allard, Matthos, Maric, Devon and Little Stannis emerging from the yard. The boys, now men aging twenty to four and ten, were training under the watchful gaze of Sandor Clegane and protecting their mother at Winterfell. Soon Allard and Matthos would ride south with Stannis to serve in the kingsguard.

He hugged them all, glad to be back at home, his true home, with his family. They were a large family now, the 7 Seaworth boys and the 4 Baratheon children making for a full house. His wife would joke that she had spent the better part of her life raising children, she could do it in her sleep. He often times felt the same. Once the idea of being a father had been terrifyingly foreign to him, not it was second nature.

A flash of red caught his gaze and he turned to see 3 more children emerge from the keep. He smiled at Elrick, now 8, Cassana and Alayne as they ran to him and he crouched once more to pull them into his arms. 

Elrick Baratheon Stark, heir to Winterfell, was every inch a Northern lord and already as stubborn as his mother. And his girls, his precious princesses Cassana and Alayne, ages 6 and 4, were Stannis’ beauties. The poor girls had 9 older brothers watching out for them, a good thing considering they had their mother’s beauty down to the Tully blue eyes and fiery hair. Davos was right, Alayne had gotten tall in the two moons he was away.

And there she was, he watched his proud Queen of the North as she emerged from the keep, her stomach once again rounded with child as she moved to his side. 

“Gods you’re beautiful” He pulled her close, kissing her deeply. “I can’t wait to get you alone” he promised her. 

“I’ve missed you” she smiled, kissing him briefly before moving to hug Dale. “My darling.”

“Hello Mother” Dale kissed her cheek in greeting. At some point, all of the boys had started calling them ‘mother’ and ‘father’, and it only made sense, they were the only parents they could remember. 

“Come” Sansa smiled. “We’re going to feast tonight to celebrate Dale’s viscounty.” 

Stannis followed his wife inside, while Dale stayed with his brothers, laughing in the yard. Stannis paused to shake the hand of the sinister form of Sandor Clegane. The Hound had proven a dedicated sworn shield, making sure all of the Seaworth boys were damned good knights. 

Though his duties to the Southron realm called him away often, he was at home in Winterfell as much as possible. He was home for the birth of each of his four children, holding Sansa as they came into the world. Soothing her pain as best he could. 

“First” Little Stannis caught up to them and stuck to his side once they were in the Great Hall. 

“Second” Stannis kissed the boys chocolate curls. “Staying out of trouble I hope?”

“Of course” the boy laughed, the sound reminding Stannis of Lady Marya. 

“Good” Stannis kept his arm around his namesake as they moved to the fire, warming his bones. 

“Papa” Alayne smiled, crawling into his lap the second he sat on the chair beside the fire, placing a noisy kiss on his bearded cheek. 

“My darling” he held her as Sansa sat across from him, a hand on her belly. “Gods wife, you look as if you’re ready to give birth.”

“I am only 6 moons, husband” she sighed. “I don’t remember being this large. If you’ve given me twins when you promised only ‘1’ more, I swear I will send an army south and sack your fields” she laughed softly, smoothing her gown over her stomach as Cassana climbed onto her scant lap. 

“Well” Stannis said. “Both Dragonstone and Storm’s End will need heirs, unless Edric finally gives in to Renly’s badgering about being his heir.” Sansa groaned in exasperation and Stannis could only laugh, savouring in the sound of his family as he relaxed by the fire. Twins wouldn’t be so bad, he mused. 

“Your Grace” Lady Lyanna, still Hand to the Queen and now wife to Lord Galbart Glover and mother to a son of her own greeted him as he found her in the Queen’s offices. 

“Lady Hand” he replied. “How fares the north” he asked, knowing the answer would be the same as before. 

“Whole and healthy” she gave a small smile as she spoke. “And the south?”

“Damned busy” he told her. “I shouldn’t laugh but Renly is going gray, is very amusing.”

Lyanna smiled, having come to know his brother over the years, working closely with him Hand to Hand, “I am sure he looks quite regal. How long will you be in residence?”

“Several moons” Stannis replied. “I will stay until Sansa’s time comes and after a bit. Then I will take Dale, Allard and Matthos when I return south. Brienne has offered Allard and Matthos positions in the guards. Edric will take them as squires.”

Lyanna nodded, “And Lady Arya?”

“I hear from her often, she is proving quite the ambassador to Essos” Stannis nodded. “Apparently it speaks of me that I have no problem with women in authority” he chuckled, “Female captain of the guard, female ambassador, married to a queen who has a female as her hand. Were it not for my 9 sons I would fear I was outnumbered.”

“The North knows prosperity and has more children than it has in a long time” Lyanna stated. “I foresee many peaceful years.”

“Peace would do my old bones good” Stannis echoed Lord Manderly’s words from so long ago. Never finding them truer. 

Sansa sighed with a smile, “You tricked me.”

“I did no such thing” he held his wife to his chest in their large bed in the master’s chambers. He sat up against the headboard and she had nestled in the cradle of his body, exhaustion having her leaning heavily on her husband’s strong chest. 

“Pure trickery” she smiled. 

“Balderdash” Stannis scoffed. 

At the foot of their bed lay Cassana and Alayne, both fast asleep after the days activities. On her lap, with Stannis’ help, was Orys Renly Baratheon, heir to Storm’s End and Brynden Sandor Baratheon, heir to Dragonstone. _One more_ Stannis had pleaded with her, teasing her body into indescribable pleasure so that she had agreed. He’s certainly tricked her, she smiled to herself. 

Stannis had held her as she worked to give birth, as he always did, and when the time came for a second babe to be born he had laughed in triumph as she gave him a fourth son of his blood.

They held them as they nursed, her husband's arms around her supporting her weak body. She spared a glance for the beautiful girls asleep on the bed, “Eleven sons” she marvelled. 

“And two beautiful princesses” Stannis kissed her temple. “The image of their mother.”

“Do you think Ser Davos knew” she asked softly. “That we would end up like this?”

“I cannot say” Stannis replied. “I daresay he would have hoped, but this might be beyond what he could even hope for.”

“It is far beyond what I could have hoped for” Sansa leaned her forehead against her husband’s cheek, their newborn sons making soft noises of contentment from her lap. 

“Same, my love” he whispered, grateful that his wife could not see the tears of happiness in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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